LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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LIFE  AND  ART 

OF 

RICHARD  MANSFIELD 


WORKS   OF   WILLIAM    WLNTER 


The  Quken's  Domain 
Shakespeare's  England 
Gray  Days  and  Gold 
Old  Sheines  and  Ivy 
Brown  Heath  and  Blue  Bells 
The  Actor,  and  Other  Orations 
Shadows  of  the  Stage:  I 
Shadows  of  the  Stage:  II 
Shadows  op  the  Stage:  III 

{Others  in  Preparation) 
The  Press  and  the  Stage 
Life  and  Art  of  Edwin  Booth 
Life  and  Art  of  Joseph  Jefferson 
Wanderers.    (Poems) 
Brief  Chronicles.    Being  Lives  of  Actors 
A  Wreath  of  Laurel.    Addresses 
Henry  Irving  in  America 
Stage  Life  of  Mary  Anderson 
A  Daughter  of  Comedy 

The  Theatre  and  the  Public,  and  Other 
Orations 

John  McCullough.    A  Memorial 
Life  of  John  Gilbert 


Other  Days 

Old  Friends 

Poems.     (Final  Edition) 

Life  and  Art  of  Eichard  Mansfield 


LIFE   OF   RICHARD   MANSFIELD 


LIFE  AND   ART 


OF 


RICHARD     MANSFIELD 


WITH  SELECTIONS  FROM  HIS  LETTERS 


BY 

WILLIAM    WINTER 

III 


Truth  Bpeak  for  me. 

I  will  remain  the  constant  sanctuary 

Of  your  good  name. 

WEBSTER 


VOLUME    ONE 


New  York 

MOFFAT,    YARD    AND    COMPANY 

1910 


Copyright,  1907, 1908, 1910,  by 
WILLIAM  WINTER 


All  Rights  Beterved 


Published,  February,  1910 


TO 

HERIVIAN  H.  KOHLSAAT 

Because  He  Loved  and  Honored 

RICHARD    MANSFIELD 

And  by  Him  Was  Loved  and  Honored 

And  Because  My  Book  Will  Be  Enriched 

By  Association  with  His  Name 

I  Dedicate  This  Memorial 

Of  a  Fine  Genius  and  a  Brilliant  Life 


Friends  through  long  years  of  pleasure  and  of  pain 
Nor  Time  nor  Death  itself  can  wholly  part. 

For  here  at  Memory's  shrine  they  meet  again 
In  the  sweet  converse  of  the  faithful  heart. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Preface 13 

CHAPTEB 

I.     1854-1877 25 

II.     1877-1883 43 

III.     1883-1888 50 

IV.     1888-1890 83 

V.     1890-1892 124. 

VI.     1892 157 

VII.     1893 179 

VIII.     1894-1899 219 

IX.     1899-1906 256 

X.     1906-1907 303 

Mansfield's  Writings 345 

Erminia  Rudersdorff 349 

His  Mother's  Will 354 

Beatrice  Cameron — Mrs.  Mansfield  ....  357 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


VOLUME  ONE. 


Richard  Mansfield Frontispiece 

From  a  Portrait  by  S.  L.  Stein. 


FACING 
PAGE 


Mansfield  as  Baron  Chevrial 28 

Facsimile^  from  Mansfield's  Notes  for  This  "Life"   .         .  34 

Richard  and  Felix  Mansfield,  About  1862   ....  36 

Richard   Mansfield,  About   1877 44 

Facsimile:  Playbill  of  "The  Pirates  of  Penzance"     .        .  46 

Mansfield  as  Sir  Joseph  Porter,  K.C.B 48 

From  a  Pen  and  Ink  Drawing  by  Himself. 

Richard  Mansfield  in  1885 56 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson 68 

Tomasso  Salvini  as  Othello 74 

Mansfield  as  King  Richard  the  Third  (Act  III.)        .        .  80 

Henry   Irving  in   1888 90 

Eben   D.   Jordan 106 

Richard   Mansfield   in   1889 114 

Mansfield  as  Glo'ster;  Beatrice  Cameron  as  Lady  Anne, 

"Richard  III." 122 

George  Brummell,  the  Famous  Beau,  in  Youth   .        .        .132 

Beatrice    Cameron — Mrs.    Mansfield 154 

Mansfield  and  His    Son 156 

13 


14  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAQB 


Augustin  Daly  in  1892 168 

Richard   Mansfield  in   1892 178 

Ellen  Terry  as  Portia 192 

Edwin  Booth 212 

Mansfield  as  Napoleon  Bonaparte 222 

Mansfield  in   1895 234 

E.   M.   Holland 240 

Albert  M.   Palmer 244 

Richard  Mansfield  in  1898 254 

Edmond  Rostand 260 

Richard  Mansfield 264 

"  The  Grange,"  Mansfield's  New  London  Home        .        .  268 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mansfield  at  "The  Grange"  ....  278 

Richard   Mansfield  in   1905 288 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mansfield  and  George  Gibbs  Mansfield        .  298 

Richard  Mansfield 308 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mansfield  in  the  Garden,  at  "The  Grange"  .  318 
Richard  Mansfield  at  His  Home  in  New  York  .        .        .322 

Richard  Mansfield  in   1 906 330 

Richard  Mansfield — His  Last  Photograph   ....  342 

Mme.   Erminia   Rudersdorff 350 

Mrs.  Mansfield  and  George  Gibbs  Mansfield      .        .        .  358 

Mrs.  Mansfield  and  Her  Son  in  1 908 360 


PREFACE. 

RiCHAED  Mansfield  earnestly  requested  me  to  write  his 
LIFE,  /  promised  to  do  so,  and  this  book  is  the  fulfilment 
of  my  promise.  My  acquaintance  with  him  extended  over 
a  period  of  about  twenty-five  years,  and  during  the  greater 
part  of  that  time  my  association  with  him  was  that  of 
intimate  friendship,  only  once  seriously  disturbed,  and 
then  only  for  a  little  while,  although  more  than  once  he 
became  incensed  with  me,  and  freely  and  even  rudely 
expressed  his  dissatisfaction.  He  was  a  man  of  unquiet, 
undisciplined,  impulsive,  imperious  mind,  intent  on  personal 
aggrandizement,  the  acquisition  of  wealth  and  fame,  and  he 
was  so  impatient  of  delay  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  purposes 
that  he  scarcely  ever  allowed  a  moment  of  peace  either 
to  himself  or  any  person  near  him;  but,  while  he  was  some- 
times a  trial  to  patience,  he  was,  essentially,  a  practical 
exemplar  of  devotion  to  high  ideals,  an  active  instrument  of 
virtuous  intellectual  force,  and  therefore  a  potent,  influential 
character,  worthy  of  respect  and  sympathy  in  life,  and  of 
thoughtful  commemoration,  now  that  he  has  passed  away. 
Such  commemoration  it  is  the  design  of  this  memoir  to 
provide. 

The  chronicle  of  Mansfield's  career  tells  the  story  of  a 
man  of  aspiring  genius  who,  during  many  years  and  against 

15 


16  PREFACE 

many  obstacles,  strove  for  the  achievement  of  noble  results 
in  the  administration  of  the  Theatre;  gained  brilliant 
victories;  encountered  grievous  disappointments ;  and,  after 
a  gallant  struggle,  died,  exhausted  in  the  endless  contest 
that  seeks  to  make  intellect  triumphant  over  materialism 
and  the  great  art  of  acting  a  prime  incentive  to  refined 
civilization  and  therefore  to  public  happiness.  That 
chronicle  involves  narrative  of  varied  and  picturesque 
theatrical  industry,  analysis  of  a  singularly  complex  and 
interesting  personality,  and  the  presentment  of  an  image 
of  endeavor,  endurance,  persistence,  and  fidelity  that  ought 
to  prove  instructive  and  stimulative,  especially  to  every 
sincere  votary  of  the  Stage.  Writing  to  me,  immediately 
after  the  death  of  the  illustrious  actor  Henry  Irving, 
Mansfield  said:  "/  think  that  Irving^ s  end  was  very  envi- 
able: it  was  best  so,  and  is  always  best  so."  Irving  died 
at  his  post,  worn  out  by  continual,  conscientious,  devoted, 
magnificent  labor,  in  the  service  of  his  profession  and  of 
the  public  welfare.  Mansfield  met  with  a  kindred  fate, 
resultant  from  a  kindred  cause,  for  he  was  impelled  by  a 
like  ardor  of  motive  and  by  the  indomitable  spirit  which  is 
always  saying  to  itself:  "Think  nothing  done  while  aught 
remains  to  do." 

It  was  remarked  by  that  close  observer  and  sagacious 
judge  of  human  nature,  the  historian  Macaulay,  that 
"biographers,  and  indeed  all  persons  who  employ  themselves 
in  illustrating  the  lives  of  others,  are  peculiarly  disposed 
to  the  disease  of  admiration."     That  truth  has  admonished 


PREFACE  17 

me  of  the  wisdom  of  restraining  my  enthmiasm,  and  of 
allowing  the  subject  of  this  memoir  to  speak  for  himself, 
wherever  possible,  revealing  his  character,  and  describing 
his  conduct,  directly  to  the  reader,  through  the  medium 
of  his  Letters.  Those  compositions  are  numerous,  for  his 
industry  in  letter-writing  was  incessant  and  exceptionally 
productive.  To  me  and  to  members  of  my  family  he  wrote 
more  than  five  hundred  letters,  some  of  which  have  been 
destroyed,  but  many  of  which,  because  intrinsically 
interesting,  have  been  preserved.  Some  of  those  letters, 
either  in  full  or  in  part,  have  been  woven  into  the 
strands  of  this  narrative,  and  they  will  be  found  especially 
illuminative  of  the  mind,  the  feelings,  and  the  experi- 
ence of  their  writer.  Confidence  has  been  scrupulously 
respected.  In  some  instances  the  names  of  persons  still 
living,  or  of  those  whose  near  relatives  are  still  living, 
have  been  omitted,  for  while  it  has  been  my  purpose  to 
depict  Mansfield  as  he  was,  it  has  been  my  earnest  desire 
to  avoid  causing  pain  or  just  resentment.  Mansfield,  vn 
his  condemnation  of  individuals,  was  sometimes  more 
explicit  than  judicious:  on  other  occasions  Ms  justice  was 
not  less  commendable  than  his  candor.  Most  of  my  letters 
to  him  have,  unfortunately,  been  destroyed  or  lost:  they 
would  have  been  useful  in  this  work.  The  few  of  them 
that  appear  in  it  were  kindly  furnished  to  me  by  Mrs. 
Mansfield,  to  whose  courtesy  also  I  am  indebted  for  use  of 
the  originals  of  various  illustrations  with  which  these 
volumes  are  embellished.    For  other  pictures  I  am  indebted 


18  PREFACE 

to  the  kindness  of  that  scholastic  enthusiast  of  the  drama 
and  unwearied  collector  of  theatrical  annals  and  relics. 
Evert  Jansen  Wendell. 

This  hook  does  not  contain  anything  that  has  been  de- 
rived, either  directly  or  indirectly,  from  any  previous 
narrative,  by  any  other  hand  than  my  own,  of  the  LIFE  OF 
RICHARD  MANSFIELD.  It  is  essential  that  I  should  make 
this  statement  here,  in  order  to  protect  myself  from  the 
possible  imputation  that  my  work  is  indebted  to  an  already 
existing  book  about  him,  made  by  a  person  who  has 
industriously  explored  my  published  writings,  appropriated 
various  thoughts  of  mine,  sometimes  used  my  actual  words, 
and  sometimes  paraphrased  them.  My  essays  and  comments 
on  Mansfield's  acting  have  been  abundant  within  the  last 
twenty-five  years,  and  from  those  essays  and  comments,  and 
from  many  theatrical  records  of  mine,  some  in  manuscript, 
some  dispersed  through  ''The  New  York  Tribune," 
"Harper's  Weekly,"  "The  Saturday  Evening  Post,"  and 
other  publications,  I  have  drawn  whatever  would  serve  the 
purpose  of  this  memoir.  My  principal  authority  for 
statements  of  biographical  fact  is  Mansfield  himself, — his 
communications  to  me  having  been  ample  and  particular. 
I  have  verified  them,  whenever  necessary.  Many  details, 
which  are  valuable  for  the  guidance  of  a  biographer,  would 
he  tedious  if  set  forth  for  a  reader.  I  have  followed  Mans- 
field's account  of  his  ancestry,  but  have  not  deemed  it 
necessary  to  descant,  in  detail,  on  his  relatives  or  on 
domestic  incidents  of  his  boyhood, — themes  which,  in  almost 


PREFACE  19 

all  memoirs,  are  trite  and  insipid.  From  the  day  of  our 
first  meeting,  when  he  was  introducejd  to  me  hy  our 
affectionate  friend  the  late  Col.  E.  A.  Buck,  until 
nearly  the  day  of  his  death,  Mansfield  habitually  con- 
sulted me  relative  to  his  schemes  and  ventures,  and, 
referring  to  his  professional  career,  it  pleased  him  to 
say,  "/  am  your  dramatic  godson."  His  authorization 
of  the  biography  which  I  have  written  was  expressed 
thus:  "I  wonder  if  you  would  care  to  undertake  a 
Biography?  It  might  interest  some  persons,  and  much 
in  my  early  life  was  strange.  It  should  prove  interesting. 
I  think  a  book  on  the  Life  of  R.  M.,  from  your  pen,  might 
sell  well.  I  do  not  know — but  I  think  so";  and  later,  when 
I  told  him  I  had  already  planned  the  book,  he  wrote:  "7  am 
tremendously  excited  about  your  writing  the  Life  of  R.  M. 
It  is  better  than  being  knighted!  .  .  .  If  I  am  alive  next 
year  I  propose  to  invite  you  to  go  abroad  with  me.  We 
will  travel  over  the  ground  together,  foot  for  foot;  all  the 
places  I  lived  in,  and  was  beaten  and  starved:  my  grand- 
father's vineyard:  he  was  the  friend  of  poets:  my  old  Aunt 
— still  living — a  'Grand  Lady':  the  school  at  Yverdon;  at 
Bourbourg;  Derby — 0,  well,  it  will  be  great  and  glorious!" 
Had  he  lived,  that  dream,  perhaps,  might  have  been  realized. 
My  work  certainly  would  have  been  enriched  by  some  excel- 
lent pictures,  for  it  was  planned  that  special  portraits 
should  be  made  of  him,  in  all  his  characters  (in  some  of 
them  he  was  never  photographed),  and  that  they  should 
not  be  reproduced  except  in  this  book. 


20  PREFACE 

Infirmities  are  common  to  human  nature^  and  the  philo' 
sophic  mind  discounts  them,  as  a  matter  of  course.  The 
virtues  of  human  nature  are  the  attributes  of  it  most 
essential  to  be  observed  and  recorded.  I  believe  that  Mans- 
field^s  virtues  are  fully  shown  in  this  memoir,  and  that 
they  are  made  the  more  conspicuous  because  displayed 
in  contrast  with  his  defects.  At  times  he  was  the  object 
of  harsh  criticism  and  rancorous  censure.  I  have  judged 
it  right,  knowing  him  to  have  been  a  good  man  and  a  great 
actor,  and  so  depicting  him  in  these  pages,  not  to  ignore 
his  faults  and  errors,  nor  the  censure  that  sometimes  fol- 
lowed him.  In  other  words,  I  have  tried  to  write  a  LIFE 
and  not  a  EULOGY;  and  if  my  recorded  estimate  is  incorrect 
the  inaccuracy  must  be  ascribed  not  to  lack  of  knowledge 
but  to  lack  of  judgment. 

Analysis  of  the  subjects  that  an  actor  selects  for  illustra- 
tion upon  the  stage  is  an  essential  part  of  the  portraiture 
of  his  acting  and  a  valuable  index  of  his  mind,  and  there- 
fore, in  the  division  of  this  biography  which  is  devoted 
to  Mansfield's  ART,  the  plays  that  he  presented  are 
particularly  examined  and  described. 

The  minute  Chronology  of  the  actor's  Life,  which  is 
appended  to  the  narrative,  and  in  which  are  included  the 
Casts  of  Characters  of  all  the  principal  plays  with  which 
he  was  associated,  will  be  found  useful  to  those  students 
of  theatrical  history  who  chance  to  desire  particular 
information  on  this  subject,  for  the  purpose  of  reference 
when  in  haste.     The  making  of  it  has  exacted  much  labor. 


PREFACE  21 

There  are  a  few  repetitions  of  dates  in  these  •volumes,  and 
they  are  intentional, — as  they  save  the  reader  the  trouble  of 
referring  from  one  volume  to  the  other  in  order  to  ascertain 
the  time  of  the  event  recorded  or  discussed. 

Information  has  been  afforded  to  me, — and  the  kindness 
is  here  gratefully  acknowledged, — hy  the  learned  theatrical 
antiquarian,  John  Bouve  Clapp,  of  Boston;  the  eminent 
actor,  Johnston  Forbes-Robertson;  the  distinguished  musical 
critic,  Dr.  Henry  E.  Krehbiel;  the  veteran  journalist,t 
Francis  M.  Stanwood;  the  literary  connoisseur,  Albert  H. 
Whitin,  of  Whitinsville,  Mass.;  and  Mrs.  Stephen  D. 
Stephens,  who,  in  her  girlhood,  was  for  some  time  a  pupil 
of  Mansfield's  mother,  Mme.  Erminia  Rudersdorff,  and 
resident  in  her  home,  at  Berlin,  Mass.  Letters  that  were 
addressed  by  Mansfield  to  that  great  theatrical  manager, 
Augustin  Daly,  have  been  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal  by 
the  honored  jurist,  Joseph  F.  Daly,  Augustin's  brother  and 
executor.  I  would  also  express  my  gratitude  to  my  son, 
William  Jefferson  Winter,  for  valuable  suggestions  and  for 
practical  help  in  the  laborious  research  essential  to  a  com- 
prehensive scheme  of  authentic  biography. 

The  present  epoch  is  one  of  materialism  and  luxury. 
Triumph  in  the  doing  of  great  artistic  deeds,  the  dramatic 
illustration  of  great  subjects,  the  stimulative,  cheering 
exposition  of  the  splendid  possibilities  of  spiritual  human 
development  in  the  ministry  of  beauty,  has  never  been  easy, 
and  it  is  more  difficult  now  than  once  it  was,  when  wealth 
was  less  abundant  and  life  less  sophisticated.     The  genius 


22  PREFACE 

that  conquers  m  our  time  must  be  fortified  hy  indomitable 
will,  steadfast  endurance,  tireless  industry,  and  irresistible 
charm.  Our  time  was  Mansfield's  time,  and  although  he 
was  worn  out  by  the  struggle,  and  although  he  sacrificed 
his  life  in  the  conflict,  he  diffused  an  abiding  influence 
that  should  cheer  and  animate  the  disciples  of  intellect, 
and  he  gained  an  honorable  fame  that  will  long  endure. 
If  there  were  only  half  a  score  of  actors  possessed  of  such 
genius  and  ability  as  that  of  RICHARD  MANSFIELD^  and 
animated  by  such  a  profound,  passionate  devotion  to  the 
art  of  acting  as  that  which  glowed  and  burned  in  him,  our 
Theatre,  in  this  day  of  scientific  prodigy  and  seemingly 
miraculous  possibilities,  would  show  a  ripeness  and  splen- 
dor of  accomplishment  such  as  the  world  has  never  seen. 
The  completion  and  publication  of  this  LIFE  OF  MANS- 
FIELD have  been  long  delayed,  partly  because  of  the  inter- 
vention of  other  tasks  and  duties,  but  chiefly  because  of 
solicitude  as  to  the  obtainment  of  truth  and  as  to  the  right 
expression  of  right  conclusions.  The  responsibility  of  a 
biographer  is  great  toward  the  living, — for,  as  remarked 
by  Landor,  "more  can  be  said  in  one  minute  than  can  be 
forgotten  in  a  lifetime," — but  it  is  even  greater  toward  the 
dead,  for  they  can  no  longer  speak  for  themselves. 

W.  W. 

December  1,  1909. 


Men  must  endure 
Their  going  hence,  even  as  their  coming  hither. 
Ripeness  is  all. 


— SHAKESFEABE. 


He  strives  against  the  stream,  nor  can  his  power  reverse 
the  first  decrees  of  fate. 


— CEKVANTES. 


The  public  are  always  anxious  to  know  the  men  who 
have  left  behind  them  any  image  of  their  minds.  The 
most  scanty  accounts  of  such  men  are  compiled  with  dili- 
gence and  perused  with  eagerness;  and  the  student  of  every 
class  may  derive  a  lesson  from  the  lives  most  similar  to 
his  own.  .  .  .  Every  man  who  rises  above  the  common 
level  has  received  two  educations;  the  first  from  his 
teachers;  the  second,  more  personal  and  more  important, 
from  himself. 


GIBBON. 


The  worst  way  in  the  world  to  win  fame  is  to  be  too 
anxious  for  it. 


He  who  surpasses  or  subdues  mankind 

Must  look  down  on  the  hate  of  those  below. 


Whoso  conquers  the  world. 
Winning  its  riches  and  fame. 
Conies  to  the  evening  at  last. 
The  sunset  of  three  score  years. 
Confessing  that  love  was  real. 
All  the  rest  was  a  dream. 

E.    C.    STEDMAN. 


THE    LIFE    OF   RICHARD    MANSFIELD. 

I. 

1854  TO  1877. 

The  essential  part  of  the  story  of  an  actor's  life, 
when,  having  achieved  eminence  and  made  himself 
important  to  his  generation,  he  has  passed  away,  is 
the  record  of  his  intellectual  development;  his  pro- 
gressive mental  and  spiritual  experience,  as  revealed 
in  his  impersonations  of  great  characters  in  dramatic 
hterature.  In  proportion  to  an  actor's  knowledge 
of  human  nature  and  human  experience, — knowl- 
edge that  he  has  assimilated  through  observation, 
thought,  and  suffering, — is  the  value  of  his  artistic 
impartment  to  the  world.  Richard  Mansfield  was, 
from  boyhood,  intensely  ambitious,  and  it  was  his 
ambition  to  excel  in  the  realm  of  art.  His  youth 
was  one  of  vicissitude  and  of  considerable  hardship. 
His  purpose,  at  the  outset,  was  indefinite.  He 
tried  other  paths  before  he  entered  upon  the  path 
of  the  stage;  but,  once  entered  upon  that  path,  he 

25 


26  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

found  himself  in  his  natural  vocation,  and  he 
launched  himself,  heart  and  soul,  upon  the  struggle 
for  conquest  and  eminence.  He  was  not  at  any 
time  a  person  of  wayward  life,  pursuant  of  pleasure 
and  careless  of  opportunity.  He  was  earnest,  dili- 
gent, and  faithful, — improving  every  chance  of 
winning  distinction  that  came  within  his  reach,  and 
he  thoroughly  earned  and  entirely  deserved  every 
laurel  that  ever  was  awarded  to  him.  The  develop- 
ment of  his  mind  was  that  expansion  of  the  intellect 
which  accompanies  the  gradual  predominance  of  a 
noble,  chastened  spirit  over  the  trials,  misfortunes, 
and  sorrows  inseparable  from  life.  Recognition, 
not  praise,  is  the  ordained  craving  of  the  artistic 
nature,  and  it  is  only  when  that  nature  becomes 
utterly  embittered  and  cynical  that  the  desire  for 
recognition  dies.  That  desire  never  died  in  Rich- 
ard Mansfield.  The  highest  attribute  of  his  act- 
ing was  imagination,  and,  next  to  that  attribute, 
came  humor, — in  which  his  mind  was  uncommonly 
rich.  He  had  a  kind  heart,  and,  by  nature,  he 
was  magnanimous,  of  a  sweet  disposition,  ear- 
nestly wishful  to  be  loved,  and  exceedingly  sus- 
ceptible to  kindness.  His  temper,  however,  was 
splenetic  and  impetuous,  and,  as  his  nervous  sys- 
tem had  been  impaired  by  long-continued  labor, 
many    disappointments,    and    the    annoyance    con- 


FALLOW    PERIODS  27 

sequent  upon  much  misrepresentation,  he  sometimes, 
in  his  day  of  renown,  exliibited  irritation,  petulance, 
anger,  and  morosity.  But  the  observation  that 
would  judge  him  exclusively  by  his  failings  would 
reason  from  imperfect  knowledge.  He  was,  intrin- 
sically, a  good  man  as  well  as  a  great  actor,  and, 
in  losing  him,  society  lost  a  generous  and  ennobling 
influence,  and  the  American  stage  lost  a  puissant 
and  beneficent  force. 

In  following  the  history  of  human  development 
the  observer  comes,  at  intervals,  upon  periods  of 
apparent  sterility:  periods  in  which  intellectual 
fertility  appears  to  have  ceased;  but,  in  every 
case,  the  syncope  is  brief.  The  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  for  example,  was,  compara- 
tively, barren  in  English  poetry,  but  about  the  end 
of  that  century  and  the  beginning  of  the  next 
the  embers  of  expressive  genius  once  more  burst  into 
flame,  and  the  shining  names  of  Burns,  Words- 
worth, Scott,  Coleridge,  Byron,  Shelley,  and  Keats 
were  written,  in  letters  of  golden  light,  on  the 
tablet  of  everlasting  renown.  At  the  end  of  the 
first  third  of  the  nineteenth  century  there  came 
another  barren  time;  but,  all  the  while,  the  vast, 
unresting,  inexplicable  force  that  pervades  and 
animates  Nature  was  at  work,  and  soon  the  great 
novels  of  Dickens,  Reade,  and  Thackeray,  and  the 


28  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

great  poems  of  Tennyson  and  Matthew  Arnold, 
gave  unequivocal  proof  that  the  fire  of  expressive 
genius,  though  veiled,  had  not  been  extinguished. 
As  it  has  been  with  hterature  so  it  has  been  with 
the  other  arts,  and,  conspicuously,  with  the  art  of 
acting.  Charlotte  Cushman,  Adelaide  Neilson, 
Mary  Anderson,  Ellen  Terry,  Helena  Modjeska, 
and  Ada  Rehan  have  taught  successive  periods 
that  neither  the  tragic  nor  comic  muse  departed 
with  Dora  Jordan,  Sarah  Siddons,  Mary  Duff, 
Helen  Faucit,  or  Ellen  Tree.  Edwin  Booth,  who, 
about  1857,  had,  upon  the  American  stage,  inaugu- 
rated a  new  epoch  of  dramatic  art,  died  in  1898, 
and  it  might  then  have  been  supposed  that  tragedy 
had  died  with  him;  but  the  sceptre  that  dropped 
from  the  dying  hand  of  that  great  tragedian  was 
taken  up  by  Richard  Mansfield;  and  till  his  death, 
in  1907,  he  held  that  sceptre,  in  the  theatre  of 
America. 

Mansfield's  genius  blazed  forth  suddenly  and  with 
astonishing  lustre.  It  was  my  fortune  to  be  pres- 
ent on  the  night  when  he  made  his  first  signal  suc- 
cess on  the  American  stage.  It  was  the  night  of 
January  10,  1883,  and  the  place  was  the  Union 
Square  Theatre,  New  York.  The  play  was  "A 
Parisian  Romance,"  one  of  the  many  literal,  and 
therefore  necessarily  vulgar,  pictures  of  profligate 


Courtesy  of  Messrs.  Klaic  and  Erlanyer 

MANSFIELD  AS  BARON  CHEVRIAL 
From  the  Original  Painting  by  Louis  Kronberg 


CHEVRIAL  29 

life  in  Paris  so  common  in  our  theatre  within  the 
last  thirty  years.  The  part  was  that  of  Baron 
Chevrial,  a  wealthy  banker,  who  lives  for  sensual 
pleasure,  avows  the  doctrine  of  materialism,  is 
radically  selfish,  rapacious,  licentious,  epicurean,  and 
cruel;  and  whose  employment,  in  the  dramatic 
fiction,  is  the  crafty  pursuit  of  a  discontented  wife, 
whom  he  is  the  means  of  driving  to  ruin,  and  of  a 
ballet-girl,  by  whom  he  is  beguiled,  and  in  whose 
presence,  and  the  presence  of  other  votaries  of 
pleasure,  he  dies,  horribly,  stricken  with  apoplexy. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  of  a  character  more 
hateful  than  that  of  Baron  Chevrial,  or  of  circum- 
stances more  loathsome  than  those  in  which  he  is 
implicated.  Nothing  was  expected  of  the  actor. 
He  took  the  town  by  surprise.  His  make-up  for 
the  rickety  sinner  was  seen  to  be  a  marvel  of  fidel- 
ity,— suggesting,  in  many  careful  details,  the  pre- 
mature decrepitude  of  an  almost  senile  profligate. 
His  horrid,  cheerful,  cynical  exultation  in  sensu- 
ahty  and  in  vicious  enterprise  seemed  to  exert  a 
sort  of  infernal  charm,  attracting  even  while  it 
repelled:  and  his  defiant  audacity  and  tremendous 
fortitude  of  will,  at  the  crisis  of  the  banquet  and 
in  the  death-scene,  made  the  part  splendid,  even 
in  its  odious  ignominy.  The  audience  was  aston- 
ished; the  performance  made  a  profound  impres- 


30  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

sion;  and  from  that  achievement  it  might  have  been 
divined, — and  by  some  observers  it  was  divined, — 
that  the  young  actor  was  destined  to  peculiar  and 
exceptional  eminence. 

Mansfield,  it  should  be  said,  was  not  respon- 
sible for  the  introduction  of  "A  Parisian  Romance" 
to  the  American  stage.  It  subsequently  became 
known,  indeed,  that  his  first  appearance  as  Chev- 
rial  was  one  of  those  singular  accidents  that  have 
had  so  much  influence  in  moulding  histrionic  for- 
tunes and  making  stage  history.  Mansfield,  poor 
and  comparatively  unknown,  had  for  some  time 
been  wishful  to  obtain  employment  under  the  man- 
agement of  A.  M.  Palmer,  at  the  Union  Square 
Theatre,  then  a  popular  and  prosperous  house. 
Coming  to  New  York,  from  Baltimore,  where  he 
had  been  performing  in  comic  opera, — December, 
1882, — he  obtained  the  coveted  engagement,  and, 
the  "Romance"  being  in  rehearsal,  he  was  cast  for 
the  minor  part  of  Tirandel.  The  part  of  Chevrial 
had  been  assigned  to  that  fine  actor  the  veteran 
James  H.  Stoddart  (1827-1907),  who  held  a  lead- 
ing position  in  Mr.  Palmer's  stock  company,  and 
Stoddart,  after  some  hesitation,  had  wisely  declined 
it,  as  one  unsuitable  to  him  because  "out  of  his  hne." 
Mansfield,  meanwhile,  better  qualified  for  such  a 
character  than  the  elder  comedian,  had  discerned 


EARLY   TRAINING  31 

possibilities  in  it  which  were  imperceptible  to  his 
professional  associates,  and  when  he  heard  that 
Stoddart  had  refused  it  he  earnestly  solicited  the 
vacant  opportunity.  His  request  was  granted, — 
somewhat  reluctantly,  as  long  afterward  he  told 
me;  saying,  also,  that  no  one  surmised  his  intention 
to  make  it  prominent,  or  possessed  any  notion  of 
the  treatment  of  it  upon  which  he  had  determined, 
and  that  no  one  was  more  surprised  than  the  man- 
ager was,  by  the  exceptional  success  which  attended 
his  performance. 

Opportunity,  a  precious  thing  and  justly  celebrated 
alike  in  poem  and  proverb,  is  useless  except  to  those 
persons  who  are  prepared  to  improve  it.  Mansfield, 
an  actor  by  inheritance  and  by  training,  was  admi- 
rably fitted  to  seize  the  golden  chance.  From  his 
childhood  he  had  been  educated  in  the  art  of 
expression.  His  mother,  Erminia  Rudersdorff, 
highly  distinguished  on  the  musical  stage  of  her  day, 
early  began  to  instruct  him  in  the  elements  of  music 
and  drama.  He  was  quick  to  learn  and  he  never  for- 
got. He  once  told  me  that  it  was  part  of  his  morn- 
ing study,  every  day,  to  practise  with  the  voice, 
producing  a  series  of  tones  and  inflections,  so  as  to 
develop  and  acquire  complete  control  of  it;  and  also 
to  practise,  before  a  mirror,  the  art  of  showing  various 
emotions  by  means  of  facial  play.    One  of  his  tasks. 


32  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

enjoined  by  liis  mother,  and  emblematic  of  all,  was  to 
tell,  by  flexibility  of  expressive  feature,  the  story  of 
the  experience  of  a  child  who  has  been  promised  the 
pleasure  of  a  drive  in  the  park,  on  a  summer  morn- 
ing, in  case  the  weather  should  prove  fine.  The  cliild 
stands  at  a  window,  eagerly  looking  for  the  carriage, 
which,  presently,  to  his  great  joy,  arrives.  Then  the 
clouds  gather  and  the  sky  is  darkened.  Then  the  rain 
begins  to  fall;  the  carriage  is  dismissed  and  driven 
away;  the  scene  becomes  cheerless;  there  can  be  no 
drive;  disappointment  has  intervened,  and  joyous 
expectancy  is  changed  to  rueful  grief  and  reluctant 
submission.  Then,  slowly,  the  clouds  drift  away; 
sunshine  floods  the  air ;  the  carriage  returns ;  the  world 
is  bright  again;  and  the  child  is  happy.  All  that 
was  to  be  indicated,  in  the  face,  by  continually  chang- 
ing expressions.  Other  stories  were  invented,  to  be 
told  in  the  same  manner:  obviously  an  ingenious  and 
excellent  method  of  developing  and  guiding  the 
dramatic  instinct. 

The  birth  of  Mansfield  occurred  at  Berlin,  Ger- 
many,— his  parents  having  arrived  at  that  city,  in  the 
course  of  their  travels, — in  1854.  Since  his  death 
the  year  of  his  nativity  has  been  variously  stated. 
He  more  than  once  mentioned  to  me  the  correct 
date,  and  the  following  letter  that  he  wrote  confirms 
the  information: 


BIRTH    AND    AGE  33 

Private  Car  403.     Buffalo. 

February  26,  1906. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

...  I  have  made  the  announcement  of  my  retirement  in  three 
years — if  all  goes  well  I  shall  then  be  a  wealthy  man  (as  we 
professional  men  go),  and  there  will  be  no  necessity  to  keep  up 
this  awful  and  incessant  high  pressure.  ...  I  cannot  expect  to 
retain  forever  what  powers  I  possess,  or  to  draw  the  people, 
and  big  productions  year  after  year  would  finally  result  in 
impoverishing  me.  Also  I  begin  to  feel,  in  no  small  degree,  the 
strain.  Three  years  from  now  I  shall  be  55,  (confidentially), 
and  that  is  time  to  stop  and  enjoy  life  a  little.  At  present  it  is 
all  work — monotony  and  loneliness  (which  people  are  unable  to 
understand).  .    .    . 

I  hope  to  be  able  to  produce  "Macbeth"  next  year.     Do  you 

know }     Could  she  play  Lady  M  .f* 

All  my  love  to  you ! 

Richard. 

Mansfield  came  of  an  artistic  lineage  and  he  was 
an  artist  by  inheritance  as  well  as  by  education. 
His  maternal  grandfather,  Joseph  Kudersdorff,  was 
a  musician  of  fine  ability  and  of  distinction,  and 
also  he  was  a  man  of  erratic  character.  In  speak- 
ing of  liim  to  me  Mansfield  said  that  he  was  promi- 
nent as  one  of  the  earlier  conductors  of  musical 
festivals  at  Norwich  and  Worcester,  England,  and 
that  some  of  his  musical  compositions,  which  were 
much  admired,  had  been  ascribed  to  Mendelssohn. 
Mansfield's  father,  Maurice  Mansfield,  an  English- 
man, possessed  of  various  accomplishments,  was 
esteemed  an  able  critic  of  the  arts  and  an  expert 


34j  life    of   MANSFIELD 

player  on  the  violin.  He  died  in  1859,  when  his 
boy  Richard  was  only  five  years  old,  and  was  buried 
in  Kensal  Green  Cemetery,  London.  The  infant 
Mansfield,  whose  parents  resumed  travelling  soon 
after  his  birth,  was  carried  from  Berlin  to  the 
island  of  Heligoland,  a  casual  mention  of  which  cir- 
cumstance caused  the  incorrect  statement,  frequently 
published  during  his  lifetime,  that  he  was  born 
there.  He  told  me  that,  a  fierce  storm  arising,  as 
his  parents  were  embarldng  to  leave  that  island,  he  was 
forgotten  and  left  in  a  bureau  drawer,  which  had  been 
utihzed  as  a  cradle  for  him,  and  that,  after  his  father 
and  mother  had  gone  aboard  the  ship,  he  was  rescued, 
wrapped  in  an  oil-skin,  and  carried  in  a  small  boat  to 
the  vessel.  That  tale  he  must  have  derived  from  his 
mother,  and  probably  it  is  true, — for  the  eccentricity 
of  that  singular  woman  had  no  limit.  From  Heligo- 
land he  was  taken  to  England.  During  liis  boyhood 
he  sometimes  dwelt  in  London;  sometimes  in  Jena, 
Germany;  sometimes,  as  he  told  me,  with  his  grand- 
father Rudersdorff ;  and  he  had  singular  incidents 
to  relate  of  his  juvenile  experience, — incidents 
which,  in  famihar  conversation,  he  would  recount 
with  caustic,  satirical  comment,  and  in  a  character- 
istic vein  of  grim,  whimsical  humor. 

The  treatment  accorded  to  him  in  cliildhood  and 
youth  seems  to  have  been,  for  the  most  part,  harsh 


/^/  ;'^>^7^  ^^  /^^r^^y^  -^  ^^  «^ 

y^iy  ^<t^y^^    nc^^^^e^jf   ''<^^^ff<^ 

FACSIMILE   OF   MANSFIELD'S   NOTES   FOR   THIS   "LIFE" 


A   TROUBLED    CHILDHOOD         35 

and  injurious.  His  mother  had  sporadic  moments 
of  maternal  tenderness,  but  from  the  first  she  was 
capricious  and  exigent,  and  he  lived  more  or  less  at 
odds  with  her.  His  singularity,  liis  precocity,  and 
his  exceptional  talents, — early  displayed, — no  doubt, 
at  times,  pleased  her;  but  she  was  unstable  and 
of  many  moods;  capable  of  affection,  capable  also 
of  severity.  Originality  of  character  or  superiority 
of  mind  asserting  itself  in  childhood,  sometimes 
offends  more  than  it  pleases, — as  shown  so  well 
in  the  novel  of  "Jane  Eyre."  Mansfield,  dis- 
tinctively original  and  peculiar,  in  maturity  as  well 
as  in  youth,  inspired  aversion  in  the  minds  of  per- 
sons who  could  not  comprehend  him.  An  Eng- 
lish governess,  in  whose  charge  he  was  at  one  time 
placed,  when  a  child,  seems  to  have  been  especially 
unkind  to  him.  Indulging  in  reminiscence,  he 
afforded  to  me  an  instructive  glimpse  alike  of  his 
boyhood  and  his  character.  "I  was,"  he  said,  "some- 
times obliged  to  go  into  a  garden  where  there  were 
several  large  rooks.  I  was  dressed  in  kilts  and  short 
socks.  I  had  been  warned,  with  a  threat  of  severe 
punishment,  not  to  molest  those  birds,  no  matter  what 
they  did ;  and  they  were  very  vicious.  Why  it  should 
have  been  so  I  don't  know,  but  I  seemed  to  inspire 
those  feathered  devils  with  as  much  dislike  as  ever  the 
Boston  critics  felt  for  me.     They  seemed  to  know 


36  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

that  I  could  not  defend  myself,  and  they  would  croak 
with  delight  the  moment  they  saw  me,  and  would 
flutter  about  me,  pecking  my  bare  little  legs,  until 
the  blood  ran,  or  until  I  ran  away  howling.  Mine 
was  a  hard  life  when  I  was  a  child.  Sometimes  I 
was  scolded,  sometimes  beaten,  and  sometimes 
starved.  Whatever  I  was  meant  to  be,  God  knows 
it  is  not  strange  if  I  am  what  they  call  'singular.'  I 
sometimes  think  that  the  early  wrench  given  to  my 
mind  by  such  treatment  was  the  beginning  of  the 
sympathy  I  feel  with  such  persons  as  GWster  and 
Chevrial.  They  are  wicked,  but  they  are  courageous; 
they  have  seen  the  selfishness  of  the  world, — and 
they  go  on!  What  they  get  they  compel;  the  recog- 
nition they  receive  is  for  what  they  do  for  them- 
selves; they  are  always  lonely;  they  look  through  the 
motives  of  all  around  them,  and  no  wonder  they  are 
cynical  and  cruel.  There  are  times  when  I  feel  so 
barred  out  by  the  world,  and  so  hated,  that  if  I 
could  push  down  the  pillars  of  the  universe  and 
smash  everything  and  everybody,  I'd  gladly  do  it!" 
That  indicates  only  one  of  his  many  and  chang- 
ing moods.  As  to  the  proceedings  of  those  -sacious 
birds:  any  person  who,  reading  these  lines,  may 
chance  to  remember  the  huge,  villainous  rooks  that 
formerly  used  to  pervade  the  court-yard  of  the 
Tower  of  London,  and,  perhaps,  are  there  now,  will 


RICHARD  AND  FELIX  MANSFIELD 

{About  1862) 


AT   DERBY    SCHOOL  37 

easily  understand  that  the  cliild  had  grave  reason  to 
dread  his  feathered  foes. 

In  boyhood  Mansfield  received  some  tuition,  at 
Jena,  Yverdon,  Bourbourg,  and  Berhn,  and  finally  at 
Derby,  England,  where  he  was  treated  with  much 
kindness  by  the  head  master.  Rev.  Walter  Clarke. 
That  kindness  he  never  forgot.  His  affection  for  his 
old  teacher  was  constant  and  it  was  often  mani- 
fested. Indeed,  one  of  the  most  winning  traits  of 
Mansfield's  character  was  fidelity  of  remembrance  of 
kind  treatment.  Once,  when  I  was  about  to  sail 
for  England,  he  gave  to  me  a  letter  of  hearty  com- 
mendation to  that  good  friend  of  his  at  Derby,  urging 
me,  at  the  same  time,  to  visit  the  school  and  deliver 
an  address  on  Acting:  and,  he  added,  "Tell  them 
something  about  7ne.  I  was  not  very  happy  in  Eng- 
land, when  I  played  there;  but  at  the  school  they 
treated  me  kindly,  and  I  would  like  them  to  know 
that  one  of  their  'old  boys'  really  is  doing  something, 
— even  though  he  had  not  much  honor  in  London." 

A  glimpse  of  ISIansfield's  boyhood  is  afforded 
by  the  following  letter,  written  by  my  old  friend, 
the  genial,  accomplished  Patrick  Sarsfield  Gilmore, 
— a  letter  published  by  me,  many  years  ago,  in  "The 
New  York  Tribune,"  of  the  staff  of  which  news- 
paper I  was  a  member,  as  dramatic  editor  and  critic, 
from  July,  1865,  to  August,  1909. 


38  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

I  have  known  him  (Mansfield)  since  he  was  a  youth,  at 
his  motlier's  home  in  London,  and  it  was  no  surprise  to  me 
when  I  heard  of  his  success  on  the  stage,  in  "A  Parisian 
Romance"  first,  and  afterward  in  "Prince  Karl."  The  son  of 
such  a  mother  could  scarcely  be  anything  except  a  genius.  She 
was  a  magnificent  woman  and  a  great  artiste;  a  dramatic  singer 
of  superb  power  and  skill.  When  I  was  seeking  artists  for  the 
Boston  Jubilee,  in  1872,  Mme.  Rudersdorff  was  recommended  to 
me  as  the  best  exponent  of  oratorio  singing,  and  I  found  her  a 
superb  artiste.  She  filled  my  idea  of  queenliness.  The  Ruders- 
dorff method  in  singing  is  still  in  vogue.  I  was  at  her  home  in 
London,  where  she  lived  in  splendid  style  and  entertained  lav- 
ishly. Richard  was  only  a  boy  then,  but  he  was  bright  as  you 
find  'em,  and  it  was  no  surprise  to  me  that  he  shot  out  like  a 
meteor  and  dazzled  New  York  when  he  got  the  chance.  His 
road  to  success  was  not  an  easy  one,  however.  One  would 
think  that,  with  an  artiste  mother,  the  stage  would  be  thrown 
open  to  him,  but  it  was  not.  Mme.  Rudersdorff,  who  was  a 
Russian,  while  Richard's  father  was  an  Englishman,  had  no 
idea  of  devoting  her  son  to  art,  but  designed  him  for  mer- 
cantile pursuits,  and,  having  settled  in  Boston,  he  began  dab- 
bling in  drawing  and  painting,  and  showed  so  much  talent 
that  his  mother  sent  him  to  Europe  (1877)  to  pursue  his  art 
studies.  The  stage  was  his  fate,  however,  and  he  spent  more 
time  in  the  foyer  than  in  the  studio,  and  finally  determined  to 
adopt  the  profession.  His  mother  so  strongly  opposed  this  new 
venture  that  she  cut  off  his  allowance,  and  he  was  adrift  in  Lon- 
don, without  any  one  to  depend  upon.  He  stayed  there  two 
or  three  years,  with  the  entree  to  good  society,  and  with  devilish 
little  in  his  pocket.  He  has  told  me  that,  some  days,  about  all 
he  ate  was  what  he  got  from  the  "spreads,"  at  receptions  and 
parties.  He  is  a  capital  entertainer,  though,  and  was  in  demand. 
One  of  his  most  intimate  friends  was  a  son  of  Hepworth  Dixon, 
who  did  him  several  good  turns.  He  got  him  into  the  company 
of  a  popular  entertainer.     Stage-fright  and  discouragement  got 


BROUGHT    TO    AMERICA  39 

the  upper  hand  of  him,  and  he  failed.  He  was  bounced. 
D'Oyly  Carte  had  a  competitive  examination  for  a  comic  opera, 
to  play  the  provinces  in  "Pinafore";  Mansfield  tried  for  the 
Admiral's  part.  Gilbert  and  Sullivan  and  several  celebrities 
were  present  at  the  examination,  and  when  it  came  Mansfield's 
turn  to  sing  he  said  he  would  sing  a  duet,  and  he  did.  He  sang 
a  soprano  and  barytone  duet,  and  they  kept  him  singing  and 
imitating  for  half  an  hour.  Carte  had  the  part  fixed  for  a 
friend,  but  a  countess,  who  had  been  an  intimate  friend  of 
Richard's  mother,  interposed  on  his  behalf,  and  obtained  him 
the  place.  It  was  worth  $15  a  week,  and  he  kept  it  until  he 
struck  for  higher  wages.  That  was  treason!  Then  he  went 
to  New  York,  and — I  guess  you  know  the  rest. 

About  1872-73  Mansfield  was  brought  to  Amer- 
ica, his  mother  having  established  her  residence  in 
Boston  and  bought  a  farm  at  Berhn,  near  Fitch- 
burg.  There  he  passed  his  youth, — sometimes  at  his 
mother's  city  home ;  sometimes  at  her  rural  man- 
sion, an  abode  which  the  singer  had  adorned  with 
many  works  of  art,  the  garnered  treasures  of  her 
active  professional  hfe;  and  sometimes  in  lodgings, 
when  domestic  dissension  had  become  unendurable. 
The  country  house,  with  all  the  precious  possessions 
that  it  contained,  was,  in  1881,  destroyed  b^^  fire, — 
thought  to  have  been  the  work  of  an  incendiary, 
in  malicious  resentment  of  some  offense  given  by 
the  owner.  The  education  of  JNIansfield,  though 
capriciously  bestowed,  was  not  neglected.  At  first  he 
studied  the  art  of  painting,  and,  for  a  time,  he  tried 


40  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

to  practice  it;  but  as  a  painter  he  was  not  suc- 
cessful. His  fondness  for  that  art,  however,  always 
endured,  and  in  after  life  he  applied  his  practical 
knowledge  of  it  with  much  advantage,  alike  to  the 
pubhc  and  himself,  in  the  vocation  of  the  stage. 
For  a  short  time  he  worked  as  a  clerk,  obtaining 
employment  in  the  mercantile  house  of  Eben  D. 
Jordan,  once  a  wealthy  and  prominent  merchant, 
of  Boston,  who  cordially  liked  him,  and  who  always 
continued  to  be  his  friend;  but  that  occupation 
soon  grew  distasteful  to  him,  and  he  discarded  it. 

Meanwhile  he  had  joined  a  dramatic  society 
called  "The  Buskin  Club," — thus  evincing  his 
juvenile  predilection  for  theatrical  pursuits.  There 
is,  among  his  papers,  a  record  of  his  ha\dng,  at  the 
age  of  fifteen,  performed, — December  23,  1869, — 
in  amateur  theatricals,  at  the  school  at  Derby, 
England;  but  his  first  considerable  attempts  at 
acting  were  made  in  Boston,  when  he  was  associ- 
ated with  "The  Buskin  Club."  On  February  9, 
1876,  at  the  Boston  Globe  Theatre,  that  society 
gave  an  afternoon  performance,  for  the  benefit  of 
local  hospitals,  of  T.  W.  Robertson's  fine  comedy 
of  "School," — Mansfield  appearing  in  it,  as  Beau 
Farintosh.  The  performance  had  already  been 
given,  in  a  semi-private  way.  About  the  same  time 
Mansfield   gave   a  miscellaneous   entertainment,    at 


BEGINS    ACTING  41 

a  public  hall,  incidentally  impersonating  Vincent 
Crummies  J  the  caricature  of  the  "barn-storming"  tra- 
gedian, drawn  by  Dickens,  in  "Nicholas  Nickleby," 
and  embellishing  liis  monologue  with  mimicry  and 
song.  At  one  of  his  performances  his  mother  was 
present,  and  she  expressed  the  crisp  opinion  that  her 
son  was  "making  a  fool  of  himself."  Notwithstand- 
ing that  she  had  trained  her  son  in  musical  and 
dramatic  expression,  she  was  desirous  that  he  should 
not  adopt  the  profession  of  the  stage.  It  is  the 
common  error  of  parents  to  suppose  that  they  can 
live  the  Hves  of  their  children  as  well  as  their  own. 
The  elder  Booth,  for  example,  strongly  objected 
to  the  adoption  of  the  stage  by  his  son  Edwin, 
who,  nevertheless,  persisted  in  his  course,  and  so 
became  not  only  an  illustrious  leader  but  a  great 
public  benefactor.  If  the  wish  of  Mansfield's  mother 
had  prevailed,  the  American  Theatre  would  have 
lost  one  of  the  most  brilliant  figures  by  which  it  has 
been  adorned  in  our  time.  JNIansfield  was  not  dis- 
couraged by  the  maternal  disapprobation.  While 
his  mother  censured,  his  comrades  applauded,  nor, 
as  he  was  young  and  abounding  in  life  and  hope, 
can  it  reasonably  be  supposed  that  he  lacked  a 
consoling  measure  of  his  own  approbation.  The 
spell  of  the  Theatre  was  potent  upon  him,  and  per- 
suasive   incentives    to    its    pursuit    could    not    have 


42  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

been  wanting.  Boston,  which  during  many  years 
had  been  a  thriving  theatrical  city,  was  especially 
so  in  that  period.  Much  fine  acting  was  to  be 
seen  there,  in  those  days; — at  the  Museum,  where 
that  great  comedian  William  Warren  nobly  main- 
tained the  authentic  traditions  of  the  stage;  at  the 
Boston  Theatre,  where  Edwin  Booth,  Joseph  Jeffer- 
son, and  other  actors  of  a  high  order  customarily 
appeared;  and  at  the  Globe  Theatre,  which  had  been 
auspiciously  established  for  the  fulfilment  of  the 
best  ideals; — and  Mansfield,  it  is  certain,  improved 
the  opportunity  of  seeing  it.  The  wonder  is  that 
he  should  have  been,  for  an  instant,  diverted,  as 
then  he  was,  from  the  adoption  of  the  stage.  The 
hour  of  his  choice,  however,  was  yet  to  come. 


II. 

1877  TO  1883. 

In  1877  Mansfield  left  Boston  and  returned  to 
London.  He  had  grown  weary  of  the  restraints, 
annoyances,  and  dissensions  incident  to  close  per- 
sonal association  with  his  eccentric  mother,  and  he 
wished  to  find  freedom  in  a  society  more  congenial  to 
his  taste  than  that  by  which  his  youth  had  been  sur- 
rounded. His  declared  purpose  was  to  study  and 
practice  the  art  of  painting.  In  London  he  opened 
a  studio.  The  productions  of  his  brush,  however, 
were  not  remunerative,  and  but  for  a  regular  allow- 
ance of  money  that  he  received  from  his  mother 
he  would  have  had  no  assured  means  of  subsist- 
ence. The  inclination  for  a  stage  career,  always 
strong  in  his  mind,  now  became  irresistible,  and 
he  determined  to  be  an  actor.  Once,  in  conversa- 
tion, adverting  to  those  early  days,  he  told  me  that 
he  found  an  opportunity  of  public  appearance  at  one 
of  the  Music  Halls,  to  "do  a  musical  turn,"  and 
that  he  went  on,  and  talked  and  sang,  under  the 
designation  of  TJie  Ravishing  Roach:  also  he  said 
that  he  tried  to  perform,  one  evening,  in  place  of 

43 


U  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

Corney  Grain, — who  had  been  taken  ill, — ^in  the 
entertainment  given  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  German  Reed 
(Priscilla  Horton),  at  the  Gallery  of  Illustration, 
but  he  was  so  overcome  by  trepidation  and  physical 
weakness  that  he  utterly  failed.  Corney  Grain, 
whom  I  very  pleasantly  remember,  was  one  of  the 
most  droUy  eccentric  of  men,  having  the  lank  figure 
and  thin  visage  of  Don  Quixote^  and  also  his  kind 
heart,  and  he  was  a  remarkably  clever  actor;  so 
that  the  task  of  filling  his  place  might  well  have 
discomfited  a  novice.  Other  and  more  serious 
reverses  followed.  As  soon  as  his  mother  became 
aware  of  his  theatrical  proceedings  she  stopped  his 
allowance,  and  he  was  reduced  to  such  poverty  that 
he  had  to  resort  to  the  expedient  of  giving 
entertainments  at  private  houses,  as  an  incident 
to  festive  social  occasions.  That  experience  of 
hardship  was  afterward  skilfully  utilized  by  him,  in 
his  touching  play  of  "Monsieur,"  the  leading  char- 
acter in  which,  Andre  de  Jardot,  is  a  young  musi- 
cian, of  fine  talents  and  elegant  manners,  impov- 
erished and  starving,  in  New  York.  Mansfield 
nearly  starved,  in  reality,  in  London,  for,  strange 
to  say,  he  could  not  obtain  regular  employment, 
and, — which  is  not  strange, — he  sedulously  kept  from 
his  acquaintances  all  knowledge  of  his  destitution. 
A  friend  of  liis,  Mr.  Wilham  Dixon,  a  talented  and 


RICHARD  MANSFIELD 

{About    1S77) 


FIRST    REGULAR   ENGAGEMENT   45 

popular  young  man,  son  of  W.  Hepworth  Dixon, 
editor  of  "The  London  Athenaeum,"  had  already 
commended  him  to  various  acquaintances,  including 
several  theatrical  managers,  and  so  it  happened  that 
presently  he  obtained  an  engagement  to  appear  in 
comic  opera,  under  the  management  of  D'Oyly 
Carte,  who  chanced  to  be  organizing  a  company 
to  traverse  the  English  provincial  towns.  That 
quizzical  musical  satire,  "Pinafore,"  was  then  new 
to  the  theatre,  and  Mansfield  had  the  good  fortune 
to  be  cast  for  the  part  of  Sir  Joseph  Porter,  K.C.B., 
in  the  performance  of  which  he  displayed  signal 
talent.  That  was  the  beginning  of  his  regular  pro- 
fessional career. 

The  preliminary  or  novitiate  part  of  that  career 
presents  no  aspect  of  special  interest.  Mansfield 
was  subjected  to  the  same  trials  and  he  passed 
through  the  same  ordeal  of  vicissitude  to  which  all 
actors  are  subjected  who  begin  in  poverty  and  are 
obliged  to  endure  "the  slings  and  arrows  of  out- 
rageous fortune"  and  to  make  their  way  by  their 
strength.  Theatrical  biography  becomes  monoto- 
nous in  its  recital  of  the  afflictions  to  which  strug- 
gling genius  is  almost  invariably  subjected  at  the 
outset  of  its  pilgrimage  toward  the  temple  of  fame. 
Mansfield,  although  he  was  strongly  addicted  to 
talking,  and  to  writing  letters,  about  himself    (he 


46  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

wrote  several  hundred  of  such  letters  to  me),  did 
not  say  much  that  was  novel  about  his  tours  of 
the  provincial  towns  of  Great  Britain,  from  the  time 
when  he  joined  D'Oyly  Carte's  travelling  company 
to  the  time,  1882,  when  he  returned  to  America.  His 
first  engagement  with  Carte  lasted  about  one  year. 
Then,  having  committed  the  sin  of  asking  for  an 
increase  of  salary  (a  sin  that  Mr.  Gilmore  ironically 
describes  as  "treason"),  he  was  discharged  by  the 
manager,  and  he  went  back  to  London  and  to  "hard 
times"  in  that  capital, — perhaps  the  worst  place  on 
earth  for  any  person  to  abide  in  who  is  poor.  A 
period  of  pressing  hardship  followed,  but  late  in 
1879  he  was  again  employed  by  D'Oyly  Carte, 
and,  beginning  at  Bristol,  December  10,  as  Sir 
Joseph  Porter,  he  made  another  tour  of  the  prov- 
inces, performing  in  comic  opera.  At  Paignton, 
in  Devonshire,  on  December  30,  he  appeared  as  the 
Major  General,  in  "The  Pirates  of  Penzance,"  then 
first  produced;  a  trial  representation  and  for  the 
estabhshment  of  copyright :  the  first  regular  perform- 
ance of  that  piece,  now  so  well-known  and  popular, 
occurred  at  the  Opera  Comique,  London,  April  3, 
1880:  it  was  acted  in  New  York  on  December 
31,  1879.  In  Mr.  Carte's  company  and  during  the 
season  of  1879-'80  he  visited,  among  other  places, 
DubHn,  Cork,  Belfast,  Liverpool,  Manchester,  Bir- 


1©TAL-,    BIJOT"    THlAflE, 

ZP^IO-lsTTOIN". 

F  <>  I!     ()  y  E     l>  A  Y     O  y  L  Y . 

TUESDAY.    DECEMBER    30th, 

AT     TWO     O'CLOCK. 

A.N    KNTIKEI.V    .NEW   .'\ND   OKIGINAI, 

By  Messrs.  W.  S.  GILBERT  and  ARTHUR  SULLIVAN,  entitled 

THE    PIRATES    OF    PENZANCE, 

OR      I^OYE      AND     DUTY 

Being  its  first  production  in  any  country. 

.Mk.  RICH.^RD  .\1.-\NSFIELD 

Mr.  FEDERICI 

Mr.  CADW.-^LADR 


Mah 

K-Gt 

ERAL... 

The 
Frei 

PiRAT 

E  Kino 
(a  Pirate) 

Ruth  (Fredericl<'s  Nun 


ACT  I. 
ACT   11. 


Mb.  BILLINGTON 

Miss  PETRELLI 

Miss  MAY 

Miss  K.  NEVILLE 

Miss  MONMOUTH 

Miss  l-'ANNY  HARRISON 


Sofa  Stalls,   3  -  ;    Second   Seats,   2/- ;    Area,    i  - ;    Gallery,   6d. 

TICKETS  TO  BE  HAD  AT  THE  GERSTON  HOTEL. 

Conductor,  .Mr.  Ralph   Hornkr.  .Acting  Manager,  .Mr.   Herrkri   Bkuok. 


PLAYBILL  0¥  "THE  PIRATES  OF  PENZANCE" 


ACTS    IN    LONDON  47 

mingham,  Leeds,  Newcastle,  and  Edinburgh,  singing 
and  acting  in  "Pinafore,"  "The  Pirates  of  Pen- 
zance," and  as  J.  Wellington  Wells,  in  "The 
Sorcerer."  In  1881  he  returned  to  London  and 
obtained  an  engagement  at  the  Globe  Theatre, 
appearing  there,  April  16,  as  Coquehert,  in  the  comic 
opera  of  "La  Boulangere,"  adapted  from  the  French 
by  Mr.  H.  B.  Farnie.  That  piece  failed,  notwith- 
standing that  the  music  for  it  had  been  composed 
by  Offenbach.  It  was  in  this  opera  that  Mansfield 
first  introduced  his  clever  comic  imitation  of  a 
quarrel  between  representative  singers, — prima- 
donna,  tenor,  and  bass, — an  expert,  ludicrous,  feHci- 
tous  satire,  which,  elaborated  and  pohshed,  he  sub- 
sequently used  with  excellent  effect,  in  the  play 
of  "Prince  Karl."  On  October  8,  1881,  he  appeared 
at  the  Royalty  Theatre,  under  the  management  of 
Mr.  Alexander  Henderson,  acting  Monsieur  Phillipe, 
in  a  play  called  "Out  of  the  Hunt"  adapted  by 
Messrs.  R.  Reece  and  T.  Thorpe,  from  the  French 
original,  "Les  Demoiselles  de  Montfermeil,"  by 
MM.  Theodore  Barriere  and  Victor  Bernard.  On 
November  12,  at  the  same  theatre,  he  acted  Her- 
bert Colwyn,  in  "Dust,"  Mr.  Sydney  Grundy's 
adaptation  of  the  French  play  of  "Le  Point  de 
Mire,"  by  MM.  Labiche  and  Delacour.  Both  those 
plays   were   failures,   the   latter  having   been   acted 


48  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

only  seven  times.  On  December  26  a  play  called 
"The  Fisherman's  Daughter,"  by  Mr.  Charles  Gar- 
vice,  was  produced  at  the  Royalty  Theatre,  and 
Mansfield  acted  in  it,  as  Old  Sherman, — among 
his  professional  associates  then  being  Frederick 
A.  Everill,  one  of  the  most  accomplished  and  pro- 
ficient of  the  actors  of  that  period,  whom  it  was  a 
privilege  to  see  and  whom  it  is  a  pleasure  to  remem- 
ber. With  the  Royalty  Theatre  Mansfield  con- 
tinued to  be  associated  until  April,  1882,  when  he 
went  to  the  Comedy  Theatre,  to  play  a  minor  part 
in  M.  Audran's  bright  opera  of  "The  Mascotte," 
with  which  that  house  had  been  opened,  on  October 
15,  1881.  Adverting  to  Mr.  Farnie  and  JNIr.  Hen- 
derson, with  whom  he  had  been  associated  at  the 
Globe  and  at  the  Royalty,  Mansfield,  long  after- 
ward, talking  with  me,  expressed  strong  aversion, 
and  it  is  not  improbable  that  those  persons  con- 
siderably contributed  to  the  discomfort  of  his  pro- 
fessional experience  when  he  was  striving  to  make 
his  way  in  London  at  that  time.  In  the  summer  of 
1882,  acting  on  the  advice  of  his  staunch  friend, 
Eben  D.  Jordan,  he  left  London  and  estab- 
lished his  residence  in  New  York.  On  September 
27,  that  year,  he  appeared  at  the  Standard  Theatre 
(afterward  the  Manhattan,  demolished  in  1909) 
as   DromeZj   in    "Les   Manteaux    Noirs,"    and    on 


Si^  h^4^  ^^  .  ^^'  ^'  ^^ 


MANSFIELD  AS  SIB  JOSEPH  PORTER 
From  a  Pen  and  Ink  Sketch  by  Himself 


NEW   YORK   AT    LAST  49 

October  28,  on  the  same  stage,  he  appeared  as  Nick 
Tedder  and  as  Jan  Vedder,  in  a  musical  version  of 
the  old  play  of  "Rip  Van  Winkle."     Later  he  was 
seen,    in    those    characters,    in    Philadelphia.     On 
December  18  he  acted  in  Baltimore,  appearing  as 
the  Lord  Chancellor,  in  the  opera  of  "lolanthe." 
On  December  20  he  repaired  to  New  York  and 
joined   the   stock   company   of   the   Union    Square 
Theatre,  where,  as  already  mentioned,  he  suddenly 
flashed  upon  pubKc  attention  as  an  actor  of  excep- 
tional power,  in  the  part  of  Chevrial.     From  that 
time  until  nearly  the  end  of  his  life  he  remained  in 
the  almost  continuous  practice  of  his  profession. 


III. 

1883  TO  1888. 

Mansfield's  success  as  Chevrial  was  decisive,  yet 
it  did  not  promote  his  rapid  advancement.  "A 
Parisian  Romance"  held  the  stage  of  the  Union 
Square  Theatre  till  April  7,  1883,  v^^hen  it  was  taken 
on  a  tour  of  the  country.  The  season  closed  on 
May  26,  in  Boston,  and  Mansfield  went  to  Eng- 
land, where  he  passed  the  summer.  On  September 
10,  having  rejoined  Mr.  Palmer's  company,  he 
appeared  in  San  Francisco,  acting  there  for  the 
first  time,  still  in  the  part  of  Chevrial,  The  farcical 
play  of  "French  Flats"  was  there  produced,  on 
September  20,  and  in  that  he  acted  Rifflardini. 
IMansfield  told  me  that,  later,  in  Chicago,  by  private 
arrangement  with  another  player,  he  introduced  into 
that  performance  the  "business," — long  afterward 
effectively  used  by  him  in  "Beau  Brummell," — of 
receiving  from  another  hand  several  letters,  in  suc- 
cession, smelling  of  each  letter,  commenting  crisply 
on  the  respective  perfumes  exhaled  by  those  missives, 
and,  finally,  saying  to  his  interlocutor:  "I  don't 
know  what  that  one  is,  but  it's  very  unpleasant;  you 

50 


OFFENDS    STODDART  51 

may  read  them  yourself."  The  introduction  of  that 
comic  "business"  without  notice  except  to  one  actor 
who  was  in  the  scene  with  him,  wliile  it  made  his 
auditors  laugh,  gave  annoyance  to  some  of  his  pro- 
fessional associates,  and  especially  to  the  older  and 
more  prominent  comedian,  James  H.  Stoddart,  who, 
indeed,  formally  objected  to  the  innovation,  depre- 
cating both  the  irregularity  of  its  employment  and 
the  undue  prominence  that  Mansfield  obtained  by  it. 
In  the  autumn  of  1883  Mansfield  left  the  Union 
Square  Theatre  Company,  bought  the  rights  to  "A 
Parisian  Romance,"  organized  a  company,  and,  on 
December  6,  began  his  first  "starring  tour,"  appear- 
ing at  the  Park  Theatre,  Newark,  New  Jersey. 
In  that  venture  he  was  partly  sustained  by  his 
friend  Eben  D.  Jordan.  He  did  not  succeed,  how- 
ever, and  his  attempt  was  soon  abandoned.  His 
next  appearance  was  made  at  the  Madison  Square 
Theatre,  New  York,  January  31,  1884,  in  a  senti- 
mental comedy  by  Mr.  H.  H.  Boyesen,  called 
"Alpine  Roses," — the  love  story  of  two  blooming 
peasant  girls,  resident  in  the  mountains  of  the  Tyrol. 
IMansfield  acted  an  adventurous  nobleman,  the  Count 
von  Dornfeldt,  who,  like  the  sailor  in  Dibdin's  song, 
felt  "How  happy  I  could  be  with  either,  were  t'other 
dear  charmer  away!"  That  play  lasted  till  April  10. 
His  proceedings  during  the  rest  of  that  year  were 


52  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

merely  nomadic.  On  December  18  Lester  Wallack 
produced,  at  Wallack's  Theatre,  a  play  by  Henry 
Guy  Carleton,  called  "Victor  Durand,"  and  on 
January  15,  1885,  succeeding  Mr.  Lewis  Morrison, 
Mansfield  appeared  in  it,  as  Baron  de  Mersac, — a 
maladroit  rascal,  who  imperils  his  safety  by  his  irra- 
tional conduct.  Mansfield  contrived  to  personate 
him  in  such  a  way  as  to  suggest  sensible  motive  and 
in  a  specious,  plausible  manner,  and  commended 
him  to  sympathy  by  making  him  the  sincere,  impas- 
sioned, desperate  lover  of  a  woman  by  whom  he  is 
detested.  "Victor  Durand"  held  the  stage  at  Wal- 
lack's till  February  14.  Leaving  Wallack's  com- 
pany, Mansfield  then  joined  a  comic  opera  troupe, 
giving  performances  at  the  Standard  Theatre,  where 
he  appeared  as  Nasoni,  in  "Gasparone."  In  the 
spring  of  1885  he  again  visited  London,  and  on 
June  22  he  there  participated,  at  the  Princess's 
Theatre,  in  a  private  performance  of  "Gringoire," 
acting  King  Louis  XI.  On  September  15  the 
Lyceum  Theatre,  in  Fourth  Avenue,  New  York, 
was  opened,  under  the  management  of  that  erratic, 
enthusiastic  genius  and  remarkable  man,  James 
Steele  Mackaye  (1842-1894)  with  a  drama,  adapted 
from  a  French  original,  Sardou's  "Andrea,"  entitled 
"In  Spite  of  All."  Miss  Minnie  Maddern,  now 
(1909)  Mrs.  Harrison  Grey  Fiske,  finely  personated 


IN   BOSTON   AGAIN  53 

the  heroine  of  it,  and  Mansfield  acted  in  it,  as  Herr 
Kraft,  a  kindly,  eccentric  man  of  the  world,  whom 
he  made  effective  by  means  of  half  earnest,  half 
playful  cynicism.  That  drama  kept  the  stage  till 
November  6  and  it  was  then  taken  on  a  tour. 
Mansfield  left  the  company  in  January,  1886,  and 
accepted  an  engagement  to  appear,  under  the  man- 
agement of  Mr.  John  B.  Stetson,  as  Ko-Ko,  in 
"The  Mikado,"  at  the  Hollis  Street  Theatre,  Bos- 
ton, where  his  exuberant  humor,  combined  with 
his  brilliant  abihty  as  a  musical  artist,  gained  for 
him  the  general  admiration  and  a  decided  access  of 
popularity.  The  impersonation  of  Ko-Ko  was  many 
times  repeated.  During  that  engagement  Mans- 
field accepted  from  A.  C.  Gunter  the  original  draft 
of  the  play  of  "Prince  Karl,"  and  in  April  the 
first  production  of  that  piece  was  effected  at  the 
Boston  Museum. 

Mansfield,  meanwhile,  had  felt  disappointed  and 
resentful  because  the  general  applause  for  his  per- 
formance of  Baron  Chevrial  was  not  immediately 
followed  by  a  copious  increase  of  practical  pros- 
perity; that  is  to  say,  of  rapid  professional  advance- 
ment and  large  financial  remuneration.  His  embodi- 
ment of  Chevrial  did,  as  was  ine^^table,  increase 
his  reputation  as  an  actor:  in  fact,  it  marked  him 
as  an  actor  of  exceptional  abihty  and  of  auspicious 


54  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

promise.  But  it  is  not  possible  that  a  permanent 
popular  as  well  as  artistic  success,  can  be  gained 
by  the  presentment  of  a  character  intrinsically  repul- 
sive, lago  would  not  carry  the  play  of  "Othello." 
Admiration  is  often  yielded  to  expert,  powerful 
embodiments  of  the  theatrical  Pescaras,  Ludovicos, 
and  Stukeleys,  but  not  sympathy  and  not  love. 
Many  persons  interested  in  dramatic  art  naturally 
wished  to  see  Mansfield  as  Chevrial,  because  of  the 
emphatic  commendation  that  had  been  bestowed 
on  the  technical  ability  and  startling  effect  of  his 
performance;  but,  having  once  seen  him  in  that  part, 
few,  if  any,  wished  to  see  him  in  it  again.  It  was 
not  until  he  had  appeared  in  several  other  char- 
acters, and  had  shown  various  pleasing  and  winning 
aspects  of  his  nature,  that  he  obtained  a  place, — in 
so  far  as  he  ever  did  obtain  it, — ^in  the  public  heart. 
That  he  deserved  to  obtain  it, — ^his  complex  nature 
being  rich  in  kindness,  gentleness,  charity,  sympathy, 
and  humanity, — ^there  is  no  ground  for  doubt.  But, 
while  he  merited  and  earnestly  craved  the  affection 
of  the  public,  he  did  not  largely  inspire  it.  He  was 
loved  by  those  who  knew  him  well,  in  spite  of 
vexing  faults,  and  because  of  his  intrinsic  funda- 
mental goodness,  but  he  was  not  taken  to  the  heart 
of  the  people  as  Edwin  Booth  and  Joseph  Jefferson 
were,  in  America,  and  as  Henry  Irving  and  John 


PECULIARITIES  55 

Lawrence  Toole  were,  in  England.  ]\Ioreover,  it 
happened  that  his  ultimate  choice  of  principal  parts 
to  be  represented, — a  choice  indicative,  perhaps,  of 
an  inherent  temperamental  acerbity, — fell  often 
upon  characters  which  are,  in  general,  repellent, — 
such  as  GWster,  SJiyloch,  Hyde,  and  Ivan, — and 
it  also  happened  that,  in  his  professional  intercourse 
with  actors  whom  he  employed,  and  also  in  speeches 
dehvered  before  the  curtain  and  remarks  published 
in  newspapers,  he  sometimes  evinced  irritable  temper. 
His  petulance,  indeed,  was  momentary.  His  resent- 
ments, generally,  were  evanescent.  His  occasional 
incivihty  toward  associate  actors  was  not  more  harsh 
than  that  of  several  of  the  older  wortliies  of  the 
Theatre  had  been.  He  was  not  more  aggressive 
and  dictatorial,  for  example,  than  JNIacready,  For- 
rest, Charles  Kean,  and  Barry  Sullivan.  His 
expressions  of  dissatisfaction  relative  to  the  pubUc 
and  the  press  were  never  more  explicit  than  those  of 
some  of  his  renowned  predecessors  in  theatrical 
public  life  had  been,  and  sometimes  they  were  bet- 
ter warranted.  But,  as  he  lived  in  an  age  of  mul- 
titudinous newspapers,  when  even  the  smallest  of 
"small  beer"  was, — as  it  still  is, — conspicuously 
chronicled,  everything  that  he  publicly  said  or  did, 
together  with  much  that  he  neither  said,  nor  did, 
nor   ever   even   thought   of   saying   or   doing,   was 


56  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

recorded  and  circulated, — diffusing,  far  and  wide, 
an  impression  that  he  was  continually  fractious, 
combative,  sullen,  and  morose.  That  was  an  errone- 
ous and  injurious  impression:  but  it  was  enter- 
tained by  many  persons,  and  it  clouded  the  popular 
understanding  of  him.  To  the  end  of  his  hfe  that 
cloud  was  not,  within  his  know^ledge,  entirely 
dispelled.  His  professional  identification  with  grim 
characters  would  have  been  sufficient,  in  itself,  to 
vitalize  such  an  error.  A  few  of  the  parts  that  he 
plaj^ed  are  sweet  and  winning,  but  most  of  them, 
and  those  especially  in  which  he  was  most  effective, 
contain  more  of  repulsion  than  of  allurement,  and  it 
was  in  the  exposition  of  wicked  power  more  than 
in  the  exercise  of  pacific  charm  that  he  found  his 
advantage  and  gained  liis  renown. 

Thoughtful  examination  of  Mansfield's  profes- 
sional career  at  once  impels  inquiry  as  to  the  place 
in  dramatic  art  that  should  be  allotted  to  tilings 
that  are  gruesome  or  terrible,  and  opens  the  old,  per- 
plexing controversy  as  to  artistic  use  of  ugliness 
and  beauty.  In  the  vast,  incomprehensible  scheme 
of  creation  evil  appears  to  be  as  necessary  as  good 
is.  If  there  were  not  the  one  there  could  not  be 
the  other.  Life  is  a  struggle  between  good  and 
evil,  and  it  is  through  the  \'ictory  of  good  over 
evil  that  everything  great  and  glorious  is  produced. 


RICHARD  MAXSFIELD  IX   1883 

From  a  Rare  Photdf/raph   in  the  Collection  of 
Evert  Jansen    Wendell,  Esq. 


GOOD   AND    EVIL  57 

In  what  proportion  those  antagonistic  elements 
ought  to  be  mingled  and  contrasted,  in  a  work  of 
art,  dramatic  or  otherwise,  judgment  often  finds  it 
difficult  to  determine.  There  are,  however,  cases  in 
which  instant  decision  becomes  readily  possible. 
Monstrous  and  hideous  things  exist,  that  ought 
never  to  be  included  or  considered  in  a  play  for 
public  presentation.  When  Cornwall  plucks  out  the 
eyes  of  Glo'ster  and  casts  them  on  the  ground, 
exclaiming  "Out,  vile  jelly!"  the  reader  of  "King 
Lear"  is  repelled  with  a  sickening  consciousness  of 
disgusting  atrocity:  the  spectator  of  such  a  proceed- 
ing, seeming  to  be  literal,  would  be  convulsed,  not 
with  terror  but  with  loathing.  There  must  be  a 
limit  somewhere.  Unmitigated  horror  or  mon- 
strosity is  absolutely  barren  of  valuable  result.  One 
of  the  best  examples  of  the  wrong  use  of  evil,  in 
a  play,  is  "Titus  Andronicus," — that  sickening  rag 
of  pollution  attributed  to  Shakespeare.  One  of  the 
best  examples  of  the  right  use  of  evil  in  a  play  is 
the  melodrama  of  "The  Lyons  Mail."  Mansfield 
presented  controversial  examples,  in  Jehyll  and 
Hyde,  in  Ivan,  in  Rodion,  and  in  Nero;  but  it  was 
not  to  be  reasonably  expected  that  those  present- 
ments, however  finely  displayed,  would  enhst  the 
affection  of  mankind. 

The  interval  between  Mansfield's  striking  achieve- 


58  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

ment  as  Chevrial  and  his  more  determinate  suc- 
cess as  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde, — a  period  of 
upwards  of  four  years,  extending  from  January, 
1883,  to  the  autumn  of  1887, — was  one  of  incessant 
effort  and  continuous  activity,  but  it  was  entirely 
formative.  His  fortunes  fluctuated,  being  some- 
times propitious  and  sometimes  adverse.  The  part 
of  Prince  Karl,  which  he  acted  for  the  first  time 
on  April  5,  1886,  at  the  Boston  Museum,  although 
he  did  not  highly  value  it,  either  then  or  later,  helped 
to  advance  him  in  public  favor.  From  May  3  to 
August  14,  1886,  he  acted  at  the  Madison  Square 
Theatre,  New  York,  giving  117  successive  per- 
formances of  that  part.  It  was  not,  however,  until 
he  had  made  a  decisive  hit  with  the  drama  of  "Dr. 
Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  that  he  gained  an  authorita- 
tive position  in  the  broad  field  of  theatrical  enter- 
prise, and  at  last  was  able  to  assert  himself  in  active 
competition  with  the  potential  leaders  of  the  stage. 
That  play  was  first  presented  on  May  9,  1887,  at 
the  Boston  Museum,  and  in  the  following  autumn, 
after  it  had  undergone  severe  revision,  it  was  brought 
out,  September  12,  at  the  Madison  Square  Theatre, 
New  York.  Mansfield's  New  York  engagement, 
that  year,  began  on  May  30  and  ended  on  October  1. 
The  opening  play  was  again  "Prince  Karl,"  but, 
though  cordially  received,  it  did  not  continue  to  be 


HIS    FIRST    PLAY  59 

remunerative  and  presently  he  felt  the  urgent  need 
of  a  fresh  attraction, — as  the  following  letter, 
addressed  to  me  at  the  time,  may  signify: 

The  Victoria,  New  York, 

May  27,  1887. 
My  dear  old  Friend: — - 

...  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  come  to  you;  I  wish  I  could — 
I  need  an  outing.  But  I  am  going  to  ask  another  favor  of 
you — I  wish  you  to  come  to  me.  In  complete  despair,  and  know- 
ing that  I  must  have  a  play  at  once,  I  have  sat  down  and 
written  one  myself — two  acts  of  it  at  least,  and  I  want  your 
judgment  and  I  must  have  it.  I  must  see  you  to-morrow,  Satur- 
day, evening,  or  on  Sunday.  Pray  do  this  for  me.  Perhaps  the 
best  way  will  be  to  come  and  dine  with  me  to-morrow  or  Sun- 
day, eh.''  Of  course  I  do  not  intend  to  let  my  name  be  men- 
tioned in  connection  with  the  work,  even  if  you  think  well  of  it. 

Yours  always, 
Richard  Mansfield. 
W.  W. 

The  play  thus  suddenly  devised  was  soon  com- 
pleted, and  on  July  11  it  was  acted  under  the  name 
of  "Monsieur,"  Mansfield  appearing  in  it  as  Andre 
de  Jadot,  and  giving  a  bright,  cheery  performance, 
marked  by  characteristic  touches  of  pathos  and 
humor.  He  did  not  lack  sympathy  and  encom'age- 
ment,  in  the  fulfilment  of  his  task. 

Victoria  Hotel,  July  7,  1887. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Thank  you  very  much  for  your  kind  letter;  it  cheered  me. 
This  weather  and  the  constant  strain  is  telling.     I  should  not 


60  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

be  human  were  it  not  so.  I  am  compelled,  alas,  to  produce 
"Monsieur"  next  Monday.  The  people  are  thoroughly  tired  of 
"Prince  Karl,"  and  I  do  not  blame  them.  I  have  been  careful 
to  take  your  advice  and  have  called  the  play  "a  sketch  in  three 
acts" — it  rehearses  fairly  well  and  I  think  it  will  hold  the 
boards  comfortably  until  the  production  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and 
Mr.  Hyde,"  after  which  I  hope  never  to  have  to  return  to 
trash  again.  Sunday  evening  next  at  seven  o'clock  we  are  to 
have  our  dress  rehearsal!  how  would  it  suit  you  to  come  and 
see  that,  and  avoid  the  crowd  on  Monday?  Although,  frankly, 
I  would  like  you  to  come  both  on  Sunday  and  Monday.  ...  It 
is  terribly  hard  work  in  this  summer  weather — this  endeavor  to 
draw  people  into  the  theatre  and  when  they  do  come  I  am 
astounded  at  their  idiocy — and  here  I  am  asking  you  to  do  it! 
Well,  at  all  events,  you  will  know  that  I  appreciate  the  size  of 
the  sacrifice.  I  have  many  things  I  wish  to  ask  you.  One  is 
about  Henry  Dunbar.  Try  and  come  up  to  town,  if  not  Sunday, 
surely  Monday,  and  stay  here  afterward  for  your  supper  and  a 
bed — you  shall  have  the  coolest  bed  in  the  house  but  the  warm- 
est reception.  .  .  .  God  bless  you,  dear  old  man — think  of  me 
as  dropping,  dropping,  dropping  gradually  away  and  trickling 
off  to  join  the  great  sea. 

Always    yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

His  intention  that  the  authorship  of  "Monsieur" 
should  not  be  made  known  was  soon  defeated. 
There  was,  indeed,  no  reason  why  he  should  have 
wished  to  keep  it  secret;  but  it  was  one  of  Mans- 
field's peculiarities  that  he  shunned  publicity  as 
author,  or  even  part  author,  of  some  of  the  most  not- 
able and  effective  works  with  which,  as  an  actor,  his 
name  was  associated.    The  play  of  "Monsieur,"  while 


JEKYLL    AND    HYDE  61 

artificial  and  improbable,  is  a  clever  sketch,  and  on 
the  occasion  of  its  presentment  at  the  Madison 
Square  Theatre  it  pleased  considerable  audiences 
for  more  than  two  months. 

The  Westmoreland^  New  York, 

August   29,    1887. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  am  sorry  you  had  to  run  away  the  other  evening,  and  I  am 
sorry  you  were  not  feeling  well.  I  hope  it  wasn't  owing  to  the 
moments  you  spent  listening  to  "Monsieur"?  By  the  way,  I 
have  cut  out  the  imbecile  monologue — coute  que  coute,  I  will 
never  do  it  again — I  hate,  loathe,  and  abhor  it!  I  cannot  tell 
you  how  much  you  have  cheered  me.  I  hope  to  see  you  very 
soon.     Dr.  J.  &  Mr.  H.  is  underlined  for  the  12th. 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

During  the  period  that  intervened  between  the 
production  of  "Monsieur,"  July  11,  and  the  pro- 
duction of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  the  work 
of  revising  the  latter  play  and  preparing  it  for 
presentment  largely  occupied  liis  attention.  The 
first  draft  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  had  been 
made  for  him,  more  or  less  under  his  immedi- 
ate advisement,  by  Thomas  Russell  Sullivan.  The 
play  had  not  entirely  pleased  his  audience  in  Bos- 
ton, yet  he  had  faith  in  it  and  was  resolute  to  push 
it  to  a  further  trial.  He  earnestly  wished  and 
requested  that  I  should  advise  him  as  to  the  re\'ision 
of  it,  prior  to  its  presentment  in  New  York,  and 


62  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

various  letters  on  that  subject  passed  between  us, 
and  occasionally  we  met  and  conferred  about  it. 
He  was  exceedingly  anxious  at  that  time,  being 
wishful  not  only  for  immediate  practical  success, — 
as  he  was  paying  rent  for  the  Madison  Square 
Theatre  at  the  rate  of  $21,000  for  four  months, — 
but  to  build  a  strong  repertory,  with  a  view  to  the 
future.  Some  of  his  letters  are  pathetic  in  the 
denotement  of  his  restless  spirit  and  perplexed 
mental  condition,  and  all  of  them  are  instructive 
in  their  revelation  of  his  character;  his  variability; 
his  weakness  and  his  strength;  and  particularly 
his  determination  to  excel.  As  the  time  drew  near 
for  the  fresh  venture  with  Jekyll  and  Hyde  his 
anxiety  steadily  increased:  success  in  that  dual  per- 
sonation meant  everything  to  him,  for,  already,  he 
was  meditating  an  English  expedition  as  well  as 
the  American  tour. 

The  Westmoreland,  August  4,  1887. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  sent  you  a  note  by  messenger  yesterday,  immediately  upon 
receipt  of  your  kind  letter — so  as  to  save  you,  if  possible,  the 
trouble  of  coming  to  town.  It  is  strange  that  as  you  did  come 
you  should  have  missed  me.  I  was  here  all  the  afternoon  and 
it  appears  you  did  not  call  until  then — probably  the  people 
in  this  house  whom  you  saw  were  unacquainted  with  my  name. 
However,  I  am  very,  very  sorry  not  to  have  seen  you.  I  have 
been  sick,  for  the  last  three  days,  and  almost  unable  to  act — 
the  intense  heat — the  horrible  stench  from  the  open  roads  (what 


CONTINUAL    LABOR  63 

an  outrage  it  is !)  and  the  hard  work  have  contributed  toward 
this  result.  I  am  absolutely  fit  for  nothing.  My  new  rooms 
are  very  pleasant — they  are  quiet  and  I  am  partially  obtaining 
the  rest  I  need.  I  am  wondering  now — when  shall  I  see  you? 
No  doubt  you  are  disgusted  and  won't  try  again.  I  ought 
to  come  to  you — but  I  cannot  for  I  haven't  the  time;  my  busi- 
ness in  the  morning  and  my  acting  at  night  take  up  most  of 
my  time.  Still  I  should  much  like  to  see  you,  there  are  so 
many  things  I  wish  to  say  to  you. 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

It  is  indicative  of  Mansfield's  ceaseless  activity 
that  the  labor  of  acting  and  singing  at  night,  revis- 
ing and  rehearsing  a  new  play  by  day,  and  attending 
to  miscellaneous  business  were  insufficient  to  satiate 
his  industry.  He  now  resumed  the  study  of  the 
Emperor  Nero,  and  urged  the  dramatist  whom  he 
had  employed  to  hasten  the  completion  of  a  play  on 
that  character. 

The  Westmoreland,  August  16,  '87. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  hear  nothing  from  you  and  I  am  so  overworked  I  cannot 
come  to  you — I  am  compelled  to  rehearse  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr. 
Hyde"  and  to  have  it  ready,  for  as  soon  as  the  active  opposi- 
tion of  the  reopened  theatres  commences  I  may  find  my  patron- 
age not  so  large.  It  is  also  necessary  now  for  me  to  play  "Dr. 
Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  here  in  September,  as  I  have  accepted  a 
fortnight  at  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  in  Philadelphia,  in 
October.  I  shall  confine  myself  to  three  plays,  "Dr.  Jekyll 
and  Mr.  Hyde,"  Chevrial,  and  "Monsieur," — discarding  the 
stupid  "Prince  Karl." 

Russell   Sullivan   is   at   work   for   me,   on   "Nero."      He   has 


64,  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

two  Italian  plays  and  a  French  play  to  assist  him. 
I  shall  make  my  Nero  largely  humorous.  I  like  the 
character — it  affords  me  an  opportunity  for  just  the  blending 
of  serious — the  tragic  and  the  comic,  which  I  intensely  like. 
Our  rehearsals  are  always  at  12.30.  What  do  you  say  to 
attending  a  rehearsal — and  we  can  make  such  alterations  as  you 
suggest  the  better  then — and  you  too  can  judge  better  with  the 
whole  thing  displayed  before  you  in  that  way.  It  is  asking  a 
great  deal,  but  it  is  your  own  fault  if  I  feel  that  I  can  never 
offend  you  by  asking  much  from  you.  Name  your  own  day — 
and  you  will  understand,  of  course,  that  our  rehearsals  are 
absolutely  private  and  free  from  the  intrusion  of  strangers. 

Always  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  Westmoreland, 

August  22,  1887. 

My  Dear  Winter: — 

How  have  I  offended.^ — or  have  you  not  received  my  letter? 

I  have  been  expecting  to  hear  from  you.     Remember,  do,  that 

this  continuous  heat — and,  alas,  my  health,  have — what  shall  I 

say?   rendered  me   almost  incapable   of  anything  but  the   work 

I  am  forced  to  do — and  so  when  I  would  lihe  to  come  to  you 

I   don't.     Write  to  tell  me  when  next  you  will  be  in  town — 

spend  the  day  with  me — and  I  will  put  off  rehearsals  and  all 

else.     You  must  go  over  "Dr.  Jekyll"  with  me,  and  there  is  so 

much   upon   which    I   need   your   advice.      I   am   in   a   horrible 

state  of  uncertainty;  come  to  help  me  out  of  it — only  be  sure 

to  send  me  word  when  to  expect  you,  so  that,  for  Heaven's  sake ! 

I  may  not  be  guilty  of  missing  you  again.     Pray  let  me  hear 

from  vou  at  once.  »i 

^  Always  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

It  was  at  all  times  difficult  to  make  Mansfield 
understand  that  other  persons  often  were  heavily 


ANXIETIES  65 

burdened  with  exacting  tasks  and  compelled  to 
be  quite  as  busy  as  himself.  At  the  first  oppor- 
tunity, however,  I  called  on  him,  discussed  with  him 
every  detail  of  the  play  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr. 
Hyde,"  and  suggested  such  changes  as  seemed 
desirable.  Later  I  attended  a  rehearsal  of  it  and 
wrote  to  him  additional  words  of  counsel  and  cheer, 
to  which  he  replied: 

The   Westmoreland,    New   York, 

September  2,  1887. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Thank  you  for  your  kind  letter,  and  thank  you  again  for 
coming  over  here  to  listen  to  a  dreary  rehearsal.  Your  opinion 
has  encouraged  me  immensely  and  I  have  not  felt  down- 
hearted since.  I  have  made  the  changes  and  adopted  the  sug- 
gestions you  make  in  your  letter.  Even  I  have  cast  Miss  Kate 
Rogers  for  the  old  hag  Rebecca  Moore.  Emma  Sheridan  is 
still  too  weak  to  work.    .    .    . 

It  is  quite  impossible  for  me  to  play  Dr.  J.  &  Mr.  H.  next 
Saturday,  simply  because  the  scenic  artists,  although  employing 
extra  hands,  can  barely  be  ready  by  Monday. 

The  Dress  Rehearsal  will  be  on  Sunday  Evening,  and  if  you 
care  to  come  and  accept  a  bed  and  all  else  here,  you  know  how 
truly  welcome  you  will  be ! 

God  bless  you,  and  believe  me 

Sincerely  and  always  gratefully  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

But  his  anxiety  was  not  allayed.  Troubles  seemed 
to  accumulate.  The  necessity  continued  for  vigilant 
thought  and  strenuous  toil.     The  summer  weather 


6Q  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

was  oppressive  and  exasperating.  The  members  of 
his  theatrical  company,  as  he  satirically  advised  me, 
were  as  nervous  as  himself,  finding  frequent  occa- 
sion to  antagonize  each  other;  so  that  the  time  of 
preparation  for  a  peculiarly  critical  ordeal  was 
anything  but  tranquil.  He  made  no  secret  of  his 
discontent : 

The  Westmoreland,  New  York, 

Wednesday. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Another  kind  note  from  you.  I  need  it.  I  am  really  worn 
out.  Why  are  there  no  competent  stage  people  in  this  country? 
The  stage  management — the  every  detail  of  the  production — 
even  to  the  purchase  of  trifles,  I  have  to  attend  to  myself! 
I  am  utterly  worn  out — for  I  was  tired  before  I  commenced 
the  summer  season.  Pray  for  me!  Yes,  do  come  to  the  Dress 
Rehearsal,  if  you  feel  like  it. 

Kate  Rogers  did  not  turn  out  well  as  the  hag,  Rebecca,  and  I 
have  had  to  change  back  again.  Harkins  is  unteachable — he 
does  what  you  suggest  for  a  moment,  but  falls  back  into  his 
own  style  the  next.  As  for  myself! — expect  little  from  me 
but  hard,  hard  work,  for  the  present.  I  shall  do  the  best  I 
can  under  the  circumstances,  but  my  best  will  be  far  short  of 
my  own  ideal.    Let  me  know  when  to  expect  you. 

Always  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

One  incident  of  a  humorous  character  chanced, 
at  this  time,  to  intervene,  slightly  diversifying  the 
monotonous  complexion  of  care  and  strife.  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson  was  in  New  York  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1887,  and  I  learned  from  Mansfield  that 


"A   BAD    COLD"  67 

each  of  them  made  several  ineffectual  attempts  to 
see  the  other.  "It  happened  that  he  was  not  at 
home  when  I  called  on  him,"  said  Mansfield,  "and 
it  happened  that  I  was  not  at  home  when  he  called 
on  me.  At  last,  one  day,  I  was  fortunate,  as  I 
thought.  I  sent  in  my  name,  and  a  person  whom 
I  understood  to  be  Mr.  Stevenson's  adopted  son 
presently  appeared,  and,  after  the  customary 
exchange  of  civilities,  said  that  Mr.  Stevenson 
wished  to  know  whether  I  had  a  cold,  because,  if 
I  had,  he  could  not  venture  to  see  me.  I  told  him 
to  tell  Mr.  Stevenson,  with  my  kindest  regards, 
that  I  had  an  exceedingly  bad  cold,  which  I  should 
be  most  happy  to  communicate  to  him,  and  so  took 
my  leave.  We  did  not  meet.  Later  I  heard  that 
Mr.  Stevenson  had  promptly  left  town — probably 
to  escape  infection, — and  me!" 

That  incident  is  characteristic  of  Mansfield's 
eccentricity,  but  no  words  can  express  the  humor 
with  which  he  related  it.  The  following  letter,  after 
mention  of  friendly  counsel  as  to  the  production 
of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  then  imminent, 
refers  to  that  occurrence: 

My  Dear  Winter: — 

How  am  I  to  thank  you  for  your  kindness  to  me  ? !  I  will 
do  my  best  to  follow  your  advice,  the  wisdom  of  which  I 
thoroughly  appreciate.     You  are  the  only  man   I  can  turn  to 


68  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

for  such  help.     It  is  impossible  to  do  quite  what  you  say,  for 
I  can  only  depend  upon  myself  for  stage-management. 

I  have  not  seen  Mr.  Stevenson  and  I  do  not  know  him.  An 
acquaintance  of  his  called  at  the  theatre  and  asked  for  seats 
for  his  (Stevenson's)  wife  and  sister,  for  the  first  night  of  Dr. 
J.  &  Mr.  H.,  and  said  that  Stevenson  had  instantly  left  town. 
It  seems,  however,  that  he  is  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Henley's — 
a  man  I  do  not  think  I  should  care  for.  When  are  you  com- 
ing over?     Sunday.'' 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  production  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde" 
was  accomplished  on  September  12,  with  gratifying 
success.  Pubhc  applause  was  abundant,  and,  in 
general,  the  press  was  favorable,  in  some  cases  even 
to  the  extent  of  enthusiasm.  The  fulfilment  of  my 
professional  duty  on  the  occasion,  although  a  seri- 
ous task,  was  an  agreeable  one,  because  it  is  always 
pleasant  to  see  merit  rewarded  with  recognition,  to 
give  praise  where  praise  is  due,  and  to  contribute, 
though  ever  so  little,  to  the  encouragement  of 
worthy  endeavor  and  high  ambition.  The  feelings 
of  the  actor,  were,  naturally,  animated,  and  he  was 
quick  to  express  them. 

The  Westmoreland,  Tuesday. 

My  Dear  Winter: — 

How  am  I  to  thank  you  and  what  can  I  say  ? ! ! !  How 
splendidly  you  have  proved  your  kindness  and  your  friend- 
ship ! 

Such   a   criticism — such    a   magnificent    review    of    my    effort 


Photoyraph  by  J.  yotman,  Boston 

ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON 


WEARINESS  69 

to  please  you  above  all  others,  is  ample  payment  for  all  the 
work  of  latter  years — it  wipes  out  all  disappointments  and  bit- 
terness and  above  all  it  encourages — it  fortifies  me — it  makes 
me  feel  that  with  more  hard  work  in  the  right  direction  (and 
I  do  not  think  you  will  permit  me  to  go  off  on  the  wrong 
track) — I  may  ultimately  succeed.  I  need  hardly  tell  you 
what  you  know  and  what  you  meant!  that  you  have  to-day  done 
more  for  me  than  any  other  man  alive  could  do.  You  have 
my  heartfelt  gratitude  and  my  absolute  devotion.  I  must  see 
you  and  speak  with  you;  when  and  where  shall  it  be? 
Yours  affectionately  and  gratefully, 

Richard  Mansfield. 
I  understood  that  you  could  not  come  last  night  and  yet  I 
waited  until  three  o'clock !    Name  some  night  this  week  and  come 
to  supper — it  is  the  best  meal,  after  all!     The  work  is  done  and 
we  draw  nearer  together. 

The  first  run  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  in 
New  York  lasted  only  from  September  12  to 
October  1,  when  his  season  ended.  The  weather  was 
exceedingly  hot,  and  Mansfield  suffered  much  from 
the  heat  and  from  the  severe  strain  imposed  on  his 
nervous  system  by  acting  the  dual  part.  His 
impersonation  of  Hyde,  upon  which,  at  that  time, 
he  customarily  expended  a  disproportionate  volume 
of  physical  exertion,  greatly  exhausted  him.  Also 
his  mind  was  busy  with  new  subjects,  and  he  never 
rested, — either  then  or  at  any  time,  much  as  he 
longed  for  rest,  and  often  as  he  spoke  of  it.  Here 
is  an  example  of  the  fevered  condition  in  which 
he  lived  and  labored,  throughout  this  trying  period. 


70  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

226  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Will  you  name  a  day  (that's  a  funny  way  to  begin  a  letter!), 
when  you  think  you  will  have  the  time  and  the  inclination  to 
run  over  "Dr.  J.  &  Mr.  H."  with  me.''  Try  and  make  it  soon, 
for  I  must  rehearse  my  people. 

I  have  made  the  alterations  you  suggested  in  the  First  Act 
of  "Monsieur,"  and  have  also  attended  to  the  changes  in  wig, 
dress,  etc.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  very  glad  I  am  for  any 
suggestions  from  you. 

What  do  you  say  to  a  week's  yachting?  I  could  charter 
a  yacht,  and  join  it  after  the  play,  stay  aboard  during  the 
day — what  do  you  say?  I  am  run  down — nervous — irritable — 
tired, — in  fact  wretched:  it  would  be  wonderful  were  it  other- 
wise, with  this  strain  upon  me,  and  this  terrible  heat — what  do 
you  say.''  Shall  I  charter  a  comfortable  yacht,  and  will  you 
join  me  for  a  week.''  Write  and  tell  me  at  once.  And  advise 
me.  Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

His  statement  of  his  condition  was  not  exagger- 
ated,— as  this  letter  clearly  indicates;  and  I  think 
that  the  inducements  offered  to  join  a  pleasure  trip 
are  among  the  most  peculiar  ever  named! 

The  Westmoreland, 

New  York,  September  22,  '87. 
My   Dear   Winter: — 

The  Doctor  warns  me  that  I  am  threatened  with  a  nervous 
disease,  likely  to  endanger  my  life!  I  cannot  say  that  I  care 
much — and  in  fact  I  have  always  shown  such  remarkable  ability 
to  recover  from  any  drain  upon  my  system,  after  a  few  weeks  of 
rest,  that  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  give  the  Doctor  the  lie. 
However,  this  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  is  a  disagreeable 
nightmare  to  me  just  now,  and  when  evening  comes   I   assure 


DAY   DREAMS  71 

you  I  am  anything  but  happy.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
just  at  present  I  am  in  a  very  nervous  condition.  We  must  be 
able  to  change  the  bill  often — but  with  dignity  and  credit  to 
ourselves — and  I  feel  that  "Monsieur/'  although  well  enough 
at  the  time,  is  not  the  thing.  I  must  see  you  and  consult  with 
you  over  many  matters.  You  know  I  have  absolutely  no  one — 
no  one  but  you — I  am  forced  to  appeal  to  you  in  all  matters 
of  importance.  Can  you  come  to  town  and  if  so  what  evening? 
When  "Nero"  is  finished  shall  we  work  it  over  together,  and 
then  will  you  take  a  trip  to  the  other  side  with  me  and  help 
me.'*  It  would  be  delightful  and  I  have  set  my  heart  upon  it. 
We  will  take  a  couple  of  months  or  so  and  knock  about  Eng- 
land. We'll  go  to  the  places  you  love  best,  we'll  see  the  best 
men  in  London  likely  to  make  the  proper  designs  for  us,  for 
the  dresses,  scenery,  and  engage  the  proper  people.  All  this  is 
in  your  line  and  mine  and  we'll  return  strong  and  well  and 
with  something  worthy.  What  do  you  say.'*  In  the  meanwhile 
what  can  I  play  that  will  rest  me  and  yet  be  good.''  Some- 
thing bright,  light,  airy,  exquisite — not  necessarily  modern? 
Let  me  know  when  to  expect  you. 

Your  sincere  and  grateful  friend, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

Mansfield  had  determined  to  win  the  highest 
possible  rank  in  his  profession  and  he  was  now 
concentrating  the  forces  of  his  mind,  and  all  the 
concurrent  intellectual  and  social  aids  that  he  could 
attract,  upon  the  accomplishment  of  that  purpose. 
His  summer  season  had  increased  his  prestige.  In 
October  he  began  a  tour  of  the  country,  in  order 
to  earn  the  money  necessary  for  the  prosecution 
of  his  higher  designs.  The  parts  upon  wliich  he 
relied  were  Clievrial,  Prince  Karl,  Andre  de  Jadot, 


72  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

and  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde;  but  he  had 
resolved  on  acting  Nero^  he  had  already  thought 
of  adopting  Shylock,  and,  secretly,  he  was  study- 
ing Glo'steVj  with  a  view  to  a  splendid  revival 
of  "Richard  III."  The  struggle  now  began  in 
earnest,  wliich  was  to  grow  more  and  more  bitter, 
and  was  to  end  only,  after  many  victories  and 
defeats,  in  premature  death.  No  observer  will 
rightly  appreciate  Mansfield's  formidable  character, 
intellectual  power,  and  persistent,  tremendous  labor, 
who  omits  to  consider  the  theatrical  conditions  by 
which  he  was  then  confronted  and  the  obstacles 
among  which  and  over  which  he  was  obliged  to 
make  his  way. 

The  tide  of  dramatic  affairs,  which,  since  about 
1860,  had  been  slowly  rising,  in  both  Great  Britain 
and  the  United  States,  was,  in  that  period,  as  high 
as  it  had  ever  been,  or,  probably,  as  it  ever  will  be. 
Actors  of  the  highest  order  were  visible,  in  consid- 
erable number,  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  The 
standard  of  taste  was  severe.  The  public,  accus- 
tomed to  superior  acting,  was  so  exigent  that  even 
exceptional  ability,  being  generally  deemed  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  attracted  no  unusual  attention.  Com- 
mercial opportunity  was  ample,  but  the  obtain- 
ment  of  specific  recognition  was  difficult, — far  more 
so  than  it  is  to-day.     Competition  was  keen  and 


A    GOLDEN    TIME  73 

rivalry  was  fierce.  The  record  of  the  period 
glows  with  illustrious  names.  Edwin  Booth  and 
Lawrence  Barrett  had  joined  their  powers  and 
were  acting  greatly,  in  great  plays.  Augustin 
Daly's  star  was  at  its  zenith.  His  superb  revival 
of  "The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,"  with  the  regal 
Ada  Rehan  as  Katherine,  had  been  followed  by  his 
beautiful  production  of  "A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,"  in  which  that  great  actress  dignified  the 
part  of  Helena,  in  association  with  the  noble  veteran 
Charles  Fisher,  and  the  delicate,  exquisite  comedian 
James  Lewis.  Henry  Irving  and  Ellen  Terry, 
attended  by  a  superb  company,  now  in  America 
and  now  in  Great  Britain,  were  on  the  golden  crest 
of  success,  with  one  of  the  most  varied  and  opulent 
repertories  ever  formed, — including  "Macbeth,"  "The 
Merchant  of  Venice,"  "Faust,"  "OHvia,"  "Charles 
L,"  "The  Dead  Heart,"  "Louis  XL,"  "The  Bells," 
and  "The  Lyons  Mail."  The  lovely  Helena  Mod- 
jeska,  in  the  noon  of  her  genius  and  beauty,  now 
alone  and  now  in  association  with  Edwin  Booth, 
was  charming  all  eyes  by  her  refined  and  finished 
interpretations  of  some  of  Shakespeare's  loveliest 
and  greatest  women,  and  also  was  exerting  her 
magnetic  charm  to  chasten  and  exalt  the  sentimental 
drama  of  France.  Jefferson  and  Florence,  great 
comedians  both,  and,  in  alhance,  illustrative  of  a 


74  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

wide  variety  of  talent  and  a  wonderful  depth  of 
feeling  and  opulence  of  humor,  were  cooperating, 
in  a  performance  of  "The  Rivals"  which  was 
supremely  delightful.  Mary  Anderson,  at  the  sum- 
mit of  her  bright  career,  filHng  her  tliird  English 
engagement  at  Irving's  Lyceum,  had,  with  Hermi- 
one  and  Perdita,  charmed  great  assemblies  in  Lon- 
don, and  afterward  also  in  her  native  land.  Gene- 
vieve Ward,  acting  Stephanie  de  Mohrivart,  had 
exemplified,  in  comedy,  an  art  that  rivalled  the 
white  gleam  of  ivory,  the  strength  of  steel,  and 
the  glitter  of  the  diamond.  The  inventive,  expert, 
restless,  vivacious  spirit  of  Dion  Boucicault  flamed 
in  many  places,  like  Ariel  on  the  haunted  ship. 
Mrs.  Bowers,  with  her  facile  art,  passionate  tem- 
perament, and  strangely  seductive  voice,  and  Fanny 
Janauschek,  the  incarnation  of  massive  tragic  power, 
had  made  actual  the  great  queens  of  a  storied 
past,  so  that  Elizabeth  Tudor,  Catharine  of  Rus- 
sia, and  Mary  Stuart  lived  again.  The  great 
Italian  actor  Tomasso  Salvini  was  traversing 
America,  and  everywhere  impressing  the  general 
mind  by  his  tremendous  personality  and  superlative 
dramatic  power,  in  Saul,  Samson,  Conrad,  Ingomar, 
and  Niger,  the  Gladiator.  Other  accompHshed  and 
famous  Continental  actors, — Constant  Coquelin, 
Jane  Hading,  Possart,  Barney,  and  Hedwig  Nie- 


PlKjtoijraph  by  Lock  ami  Whitfield,  London 

TOMMASO.SALVIXI  AS  OTHELLO 


HEIRS    OF    FAME  75 

mann  Raabe, — ^were  repeating  or  excelling,  on  the 
American  stage,  the  triumphs  they  had  gained  at 
home.  The  handsome,  sparkling  Fanny  Davenport, 
the  strange,  nervous,  febrile  Clara  Morris,  and  the 
dashing  Rose  Coghlan  were  in  full  career  and  wide 
popularity.  That  perfect  comedian  John  Gilbert, — 
not  in  our  day  surpassed,  if  ever  equalled,  in  his 
particular  line, — was  variously  visible,  sometimes  in 
"The  Abbe  Constantin,"  sometimes  in  "  The  School 
for  Scandal,"  or,  with  Jefferson  and  Florence,  in 
"The  Rivals."  Daly  had  effected  his  magnificent 
revival  of  "As  You  Like  It,"  and  Ada  Rehan  was 
giving  the  most  brilliant  performance  of  Rosalind 
that  our  stage  has  known.  The  British  Theatre  had 
sent  to  America  Charles  Coghlan,  and  Mrs.  Lang- 
try,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Wilson  Barrett, — acting 
in  "Claudian"  and  in  "The  Silver  King,"— and  the 
consummate  artist  Charles  Wyndham,  acting  in 
"Wild  Oats"  and  in  "David  Garrick."  Among  the 
miscellaneous  actors  of  the  period, — all  able,  all 
prominent,  and  all  more  or  less  engrossive  of  the 
public  observation, — were  F.  C.  Bangs,  William  H. 
Crane,  John  S.  Clarke,  Charles  W.  Couldock, 
Mrs.  John  Drew,  Louis  James,  William  LeMoyne, 
Milnes  Levick,  Steele  Mackaye,  F.  F.  Mackay, 
Maggie  Mitchell,  Stuart  Robson,  James  H.  Stod- 
dart,   Marie   Wainwright,    and   Frederick   Warde; 


76  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

while  among  the  leading  men,  of  conspicuous 
talent,  with  whom  Mansfield  was,  necessarily  and 
unavoidably,  compelled  to  come  into  professional 
contrast  and,  therefore,  more  or  less  sharp  rivalry, 
were  Kyrle  Bellew,  Maurice  Barrymore,  John 
Drew%  J.  H.  Gilmore,  Joseph  Haworth,  Robert 
Mantell,  Eben  Plymptom,  E.  H.  Sothern,  and  Otis 
Skinner:  and  not  only  was  there  a  prodigal  opposi- 
tion of  great  professional  abihty;  the  repertories  of 
the  rival  actors  were,  in  almost  every  important 
instance,  uncommonly  rich,  including  every  variety 
of  drama,  from  tragedy  to  farce.  Into  the  popu- 
lous, glittering,  combative  arena  thus  indicated 
Mansfield  projected  liimself,  with  an  equipment 
that  mostly  consisted  of  his  exceptional  personaHty, 
resolute  will,  and  insatiable  ambition. 

Incidents  of  ^Mansfield's  tour,  in  the  season  of 
1887-'88,  plans  that  he  considered,  notions  that  he 
entertained  or  discarded,  Hs  moods,  serious  or 
humorous,  and  the  varying  movements  of  his  ever 
active  mind  are  indicated  in  many  letters  that  he 
addressed  to  me  during  liis  absence,  some  of  wliich 
are  of  sufiicient  interest  to  merit  incorporation  in 
this  chronicle  of  his  life.  Before  he  left  New  York, 
in  1887,  he  had  told  me  of  his  inclination  to  attempt 
Sliyloch,  and  had  not  received  much  encouragement, 
but  I  had  suggested  to  him,  as  a  good  subject  for 


A   BUSY    SEASON  77 

a  play,  the  story  and  character  of  Beau  Brummell. 
He  went  to  Philadelphia  on  October  2.  The  dra- 
matic season  was  one  of  much  activity,  and  it  was 
especially  signalized  by  the  advent  of  Henry  Irving 
and  Ellen  Terry,  acting  in  "Faust."  To  those 
subjects  there  are  various  allusions. 

October  6,  1887. 
The  Continental  Hotel,  Phila. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Whilst  the  "critics"  here  have  been  quite  unable  to  say 
enough  bad  about  us,  the  public,  thank  God,  has  supported  us 
as  well  as  they  supported  us  in  New  York  and  Boston,  and  the 
financial  showing  is,  therefore,  a  very  satisfactory  one,  with 
all  signs  of  an  increasing  success.  We  opened  to  the  largest 
first  night  house  of  the  season  and  have  not  fallen  ofif  since. 
Dr.  Lamden's  attack  in  "The  Times"  was  quite  brutal. 

Can  you  send  me  an  acting  edition  of  "The  Merchant  of 
Venice"  with  your  notes  and  business  marked?  Yes?  It  would 
be  a  great  kindness  and  help  me  greatly. 

I  have  had  to  break  off  here,  tired  and  almost  worn  out — 
the  weather  has  turned  very,  very  warm  and  my  consequent 
suffering  has  been  great.  I  am  praying  for  a  change.  The 
week  has  closed  well  and  has  brought  me  a  handsome  profit. 
How  we  shall  do  this  week  I  do  not  know.  Next  week  Hooley's 
Theatre,  Chicago, 

Yours   always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

Stillman  House,  Chicago. 

October  24,  1887. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Thanks  for  your  kindness  and  your  good  advice,  which  I 
will  endeavor  to  follow. 


78  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

I  am  glad  the  books  pleased  you.  I  only  wish  I  could  do 
something  worthy  of  your  kindness  to  me. 

We  played  to  very  large  business  last  week  in  Chicago — 
against  Booth  and  Barrett,  and  other  strong  attractions.  I 
received  a  very  kind,  charming  letter  from  Booth,  congratulat- 
ing me — so  like  him.     I  do  not  think  I  shall  play  Shylock. 

O,  for  a  play! 

I  am  tired  and  have  caught  cold.  When  you  have  time  write 
to  me.  Tell  me  how  to  map  out  the  four  weeks  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Theatre,  in  New  York.  We  commence  December  19. 
When  does  Irving  arrive  in  New  York.''  I  would  like  to  send 
him  a  word  of  welcome. 

God  bless  you. 

Ever  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

Can  you  tell  me  what  week  Irving  plays  in  Boston? 

Irving  appeared  at  the  Star  Theatre,  New  York, 
on  November  7  and  ended  his  engagement  there  on 
December  10,  appearing  in  Boston  on  December  12. 
His  remarkable  presentment  of  Wills's  drama  on  the 
subject  of  Goethe's  "Faust"  necessarily  received 
thoughtful  attention. 

Pittsburgh,  Nov.  9,   1887. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  have  read  to-day  with  keen  relish  your  masterly  essay  on 
Irving's  "Faust."  I  was  delighted  with  the  views  you  express. 
I  was  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  your  telegram  which  afforded 
me  the  opportunity  to  send  a  dispatch  to  Irving,  wishing  him  all 
good  things.  How  much  I  was  delighted  with  his  sweet  and 
gracious  reply  I  need  not  tell  you. 

I  am  more  and  more  in  love  with  the  idea  of  "Beau  Brum- 
mell."     I  have  determined  not  to  touch  Shylock.     If  it  is  pos- 


PROJECTS  79 

sible  to  have  a  play  about  Brummell  I  will  have  it.  Tell 
me  how  to  set  about  it?  Who  will  write  it  for  me?  Can  you 
obtain  for  me  a  life  of  Beau  Brummell?  Probably  I  could 
sketch  the  scenario  myself.  Above  all  I  must  have  all  the  neces- 
sary authorities.  May  I  task  your  friendship  (being  in  the 
land  of  the  heathen  and  the  Turk  myself),  to  obtain  these  books 
for  me  and  to  send  them,  C.  O.  D.?  I  am  in  Baltimore  next 
week  and  in  Washington  the  week  following.  Pray  do  this  for 
me! 

Sullivan  writes  to  say  that  he  is  working  hard  on  "Nero" — 
you  may  be  sure  I  shall  do  nothing  with  it  until  I  have  sub- 
mitted it  to  you. 

I  am  in  doubt  about  my  New  York  and  Boston  engagements 
and  also  want  your  advice  upon  these  points.  I  have  rented 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  for  four  weeks  commencing  Decem- 
ber 19th.  What  am  I  to  commence  with?  The  week  before 
Christmas  is  notably  a  bad  week — I  thought  as  follows:  tell  me 
if  I  am  right? 

Week  of  the  19th,  "  Monsieur." 

Week  of  the  26th    )  ._      _  ,    ,,        .  .,      tt  j    » 
„       ,  \    Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde, 

u  an.  /J       ) 

Week  of  Jan.   9th,  "Parisian   Romance." 

What  do  you  say?  The  reason  I  place  "Monsieur"  in  the 
repertoire  for  that  week  is  that  the  week  is  so  bad  it  will 
make  little  difference  what  we  do — as  "Monsieur"  is  trivial — 
light — easy — it  will  be  like  a  rest  for  me  and  it  will  be  better 
than  doing  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  and  jeopardizing  the 
success  by  playing  to  bad  houses  on  the  first  week. 

Boston  is  equally  serious — for,  altho'  I  am  rejoiced  to  think 
I  shall  meet  Irving — as  an  opponent  I  don't  care  to  face  him, 
and  he  comes  to  Boston  on  my  second  week !  I  play  two  weeks 
at  the  Globe  Theatre,  weeks  of  Jan.  15  and  23 — on  the  23rd. 
Irving  comes.  What  am  I  to  do?  Write  me  and  advise  me. 
Business   is   splendid. 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


80  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

With  his  purpose  to  act  in  Shakespeare's  "Richard 
III."  I  had,  from  the  first,  warmly  sympathized, 
and  it  was  pleasant  now  to  hear  that  he  was  earnestly 
preparing  himself  for  that  important  venture. 


St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  Cincinnati, 

Nov.  29,  1887. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

What  a  place  this  is! — or,  rather,  what  a  place  this  is  not!! 
It  is  very  horrible,  after  Washington.  I  dressed  in  a  filthy, 
draughty  hole  last  night.  The  light  man  had  to  hold  the  moon 
in  his  arms  in  the  second  act,  and  he  would  wobble  it  about 
and  finally  fell  off  the  ladder  and  nearly  set  the  house  on  fire 
with  the  moon.  And  I  don't  think  the  people  like  "Jekyll  and 
Hyde."  I  heard  somebody  say,  last  night,  that  it  is  "  a  hell  of 
a  play" ;  and  a  "gentleman"  called  upon  me  and  asked  me  to 
visit  his  house  with  him,  as  his  daughter  was  anxious  to  see 
what  I  looked  like,  off  the  stage! 

I  read  about  INIr.  Irving  at  the  Lambs'  Club  in  the  N.  Y. 
papers  this  morning.  I  am  glad  you  were  not  there — at  least 
I  hope  you  were  not,  and  you  cannot  have  been,  for  I  do  not 

see    your    name.      To    be    wedged    in    between    

and — well,  no  matter — would  not  be  pleasant.  We  will  have  a 
few  choice  and  delicate  evenings  when  I  am  in  town — hein? 
I  have  so  much  to  ask  your  advice  upon.  I  am  sorry,  very 
sorry,  and  it  is  very  bad  for  me,  but  I  see  no  way  out  of  it — 
I  shall  be  compelled  to  play  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde" 
December  26,  the  opening  night  of  Booth  and  Barrett.  It  can 
be  arranged  no  other  way.  I  have  tried  to  cancel  a  week  but 
have  failed. 

That  was  a  great  big  week — the  last  in  Washington — and 
added  another  two  thousand  dollars  to  my  hard  earned  savings. 

I  can  obtain  no  definite  reply  from  INIr.  Palmer,  about  the 
Madison   Square   Theatre,  but  he   still  holds   out   hopes — if   I 


Photograph  ly  Stereoscopic  Company 

MANSFIELD  AS  RICHARD  THE  THIRD 
{Act  III.) 


VARIOUS    PLAYS  81 

cannot  succeed  in  having  a  house  in  New  York  what  do  you 
advise? — It  seems  I  shall  be  compelled  to  play  again  all  sum- 
mer in  the  city  and  then  make  another  tour.  But  with  so 
much  good  work  that  can  be  well,  even  finely  done,  in  New 
York,  it  seems  idle  and  stupid  to  gad  about  the  country. 

I  have  been  studying  Richard  the  Third.  It  will  be  the  great 
success  of  my  life  when  I  play  it.  But  I  see  him  quite,  quite 
differently  to  what  tradition  and  the  modern  actor  tell  us.  As 
regards  the  scenery  and  effects  I  think  too,  when  I  come  to  chat 
it  over  with  you,  I  shall  surprise  you,  and  I  hope  please 
you. 

Yours  always,  dear  Winter, 

Richard   Mansfield. 


Louisville  Hotel,  Louisville,  Ky., 

December  7,  1887. 
My  Dear  Winter:  — 

A  thousand  thanks  for  another  kind  and  thoughtful  letter 
from  you.  I  will  do  as  you  wish — altho'  as  regards  plays  I 
shall  have  my  hands  full.  "Nero"  comes  first  and  then,  I 
hope,  "Beau  Brummell,"  and  I  intend — this  quite  positively, 
for  I  have  been  hard  at  work  on  it — to  do  "Richard  III.," 
next  season.  I  will  explain  my  views  regarding  it  when  I  see 
you.  I  feel  very  certain  that  it  will  be  one  of  the  greatest 
successes  of  my  life,  and  you  know  I  do  not  feel  always  san- 
guine. Of  course,  this  is  quite  in  confidence  to  you — ^because 
I  may  be  laughed  at   for  my   pains. 

You  know  how  glad  I  shall  be  if  you  will  write  "Beau 
Brummell"  yourself — I  think  you  should  do  it.  Dramatic 
literature  in  this  country  requires  such  a  filip.  If  things  go 
right  we  will  go  to  England  together  next  summer  and  we  will 
look  up  the  places  and  the  costumes,  we  will  saturate  ourselves 
with   everything   of  those   days. 

I  also  need  sketches — sketches  of  interiors  and  exteriors  for 


82  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

"Nero" — "Beau  Brummell"  and  "Richard  III."  I  think  with 
those  three  plays,  done  as  I  shall  do  them — I  am  not  speaking 
now  of  my  own  poor  individual  effort — I  should  be  able  to  hold 
the  fort  for  one  season !  Anyhow,  if  the  summer  is  free  to  me — 
you  are  mine,  flesh  and  bone,  and  /  am  the  Devil. 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

In  the  course  of  this  tour  he  acted  in  Philadelphia, 
Chicago,  Cleveland,  Buffalo,  Toronto,  Pittsburgh, 
Baltimore,  Washington,  Cincinnati,  Louisville,  and 
St.  Louis.  On  December  19,  1887,  he  again 
appeared  in  New  York,  acting  at  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Theatre,  where  he  remained  till  January  14,  1888. 
Another  tour  followed,  but  he  was  in  New  York, 
for  one  week,  in  February,  and  he  returned  in  June. 
The  repertory,  all  the  while,  remained  unchanged, — 
"JMonsieur,"  "A  Parisian  Romance,"  "Dr.  Jekyll 
and  Mr.  Hyde,"  and  "Prince  Karl,"— and  by  his 
earnest,  judicious,  persistent  use  of  that  repertory, 
he  was  able  not  only  to  maintain  his  prestige  but  to 
extend  it. 


IV. 

1888  TO  1890. 

Mansfield,  at  this  time,  had  reached  a  most 
important  stage  of  his  professional  career.  His 
immediate  attention  was  fixed  upon  the  enlarge- 
ment of  his  means  of  appeal, — ^it  being  his  con- 
viction that  the  public  is  ever  craving  something 
new,  and  that  no  actor  can  long  prosper  who  does 
not  gratify  that  solicitude, — but  his  "darker  pur- 
pose" was  to  seek  renown  beyond  the  ocean,  to  act 
in  London,  and  to  return  home  a  conqueror.  With 
that  intent  he  determined  not  only  to  acquire  new 
parts,  especially  Nero, — upon  which  he  had  long 
brooded,  and  which,  though  never  popular,  became 
one  of  his  most  characteristic  embodiments, — but 
to  form  a  strong  company  and  challenge  all  com- 
petitors. 

Continental  Hotel,  Philadelphia, 

March  14,  1888. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

You  write  to  me  sadly  and  it  makes  me  sad.  I  wish  I  could 
do  something  to  cheer  you  up.  I  think  you  need  taking  away 
from  yourself  for  a  while.  Certainly  the  best  thing  you  can 
do  will  be  to  go  to   England  with  me.     You   do   nothing  but 

83 


84  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

work  and  think  and  think  and  work,  and  you  expect  yet  to  be 
well  and  cheerful?!  I  wish  I  had  you  with  me.  Everybody 
about  me  at  present  is  on  the  verge  of  lunacy  and  it  is  I  who 
make  them  so.  I  think  I  am  a  sort  of  Margrave  (in  Lytton's 
"Strange  Story").  Damn  this  pen!  I  can't  write  with  it. 
However,  I  think  my  eccentricities  have  the  effect  of  keeping 
people  very  much  alive — even  if  mad! 

I  am  studying  Nero  (also  lively !)  and  I  like  it.  I  think 
I  shall  revel  in  him.  I  am  going  to  make  him  a  beautiful 
demon.  Possessed  of  every  lovely  physical  attribute  and  the 
mind  and  spirit  loathsome  only — "a,  rosy  apple,  rotten  at  the 
core,"  and  even  that  evil  spirit  much  the  natural  result  of  his 
time  and  education.  A  youth  of  thirty,  with  golden  brown  hair 
with  red  shadows  in  it — a  form  and  face  as  nearly  lovely  as  I 
can  cause  them  to  appear,  a  bounding  step,  an  agile  grace  and 
a  winsome,  treacherous  smile.  That's  my  Nero  and  I  think  if 
I  partly  succeed  in  this  appearance  only — half  the  battle's  won. 
The  play  is  strong  but  deals  only  with  the  latter  days  and  an 
episode  in  the  life  of  the  Caesar.  At  the  banquet  I  cause  him  to 
sing,  and  the  harps  to  play,  and  roses  will  be  showered  and 
garlands  twined.  Charis,  the  slavegirl  will  dance  before  him, 
and,  dancing,  poisoned,  die!  But  there — I  bore  you,  and  we 
will  read  the  play  together.  Again!!  Well,  will  you  pass  the 
day  with  me  on  say  Tuesday  week,  March  27.''  I  will  write  no 
more  now — but  be  sure  to  say  Tuesday! 

Always  yours  wholly, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

In  the  spring  of  1888,  being  in  somewhat  frail 
health,  it  became  necessary  for  me  to  make  a  voy- 
age, and  therefore,  rather  suddenly,  I  laid  aside  the 
pen  and  sailed  for  England.  Mansfield  had  not 
been  apprized  of  my  intention  to  go  away,  although 
his  friendly  request  that  I  should  be  his  companion 


MARINE    GREETING  85 

in  a  visit  to  that  country  had  been  decHned.    Hence 
the  following  characteristic  letter: 


N.  Y., 
April  23,   1888. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

It  was  very  sad  to  come  home  and  find  that  I  had  missed 
seeing  you  by  just  one  day,  and  that  had  it  not  been  for  that  I 
might,  at  least,  have  gone  on  board  with  you,  and  wished  you 
"God  speed" — altho'  I  don't  know  what  particular  good  would 
have  resulted  from  such  a  proceeding!  However,  there  you  are 
a-sailing  and  a-sailing  the  wide  ocean,  with  a  reef  in  your 
mizzen-top  and  several  (let  us  hope  several)  main-braces 
spliced — and  here  I  am,  pegging  away  at  a  head  wind  and  a 
heavy  cross  sea,  with  a  bad  cold  aboard  and  my  scuppers  all 
stopped  up.  As  I  consider  this  nautical  language  appropriate, 
I  hope  you  will  understand  it. 

Seriously  I  .diss  you,  altho'  I  saw  so  little  of  you,  but  I  had 
looked  forward  to  this  stay  in  town  particularly  because  I  did 
hope  to  see  you — and  very  selfishly,  because  I  had  much  to  ask 
of  you.  I  don't  wonder  you  fled,  and  well  may  it  become  you! 
I  am  getting  together  a  strong  company,  I  think  a  very  strong 
one,  but  it  is  the  Devil's  own  work  and  fearful  are  the  terms 
they  all  ask,  being  stars  themselves,  to  support  such  a  poor 
thing  as  myself.  However,  as  it  is  a  question  of  winning  the 
battle,  I  am  to  lead  veterans  into  the  field  and  shall  not  trust 
to  raw  recruits — so  you  may  look  out  for  an  array  of  talent.  .  .  . 
More  of  this   when   it   is   all   certain.      I   envy   you   over   there. 

Remember  me  affectionately  to  ISIr.  Irving  and  respectfully 
to  Miss  Terry,  and  believe  me,  dear  Winter,  always  devotedly 
yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

This  is  written  at  two  a.m.,  and   I   am  not  sure  that  there 


86  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

is  much  sense  in  it — but,  as  it  does  no  harm  you  might  remem- 
ber me  kindly  to  everybody! 


Boston,  May  29,  1888. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  thank  you  for  your  two  good  letters.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  much  pleasure  it  gives  me  to  hear  from  you.  I  wish  I  were 
with  you — we  should  have  a  happy  time.  As  it  is  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  come  over  until,  probably,  the  end  of  July.  Let  me 
know  if  you  expect  to  be  in  England.'' 

I  have  little  time  to  write,  for  I  am  very  busy — there  has 
been  no  day  without  rehearsals — and  I  am  playing  here,  in 
Boston,  eight  times  a  week.  So  far  the  engagement  has  been 
successful — very.  I  close  here  Saturday  night,  with  what 
promises  to  be  an  overflowing  house — I  shall  probably  have 
to  speak — but  I  shall  confine  myself  modestly  to  "Thank  you 
and  Good-by!"  I  do  not  think  I  could  say  much  of  interest  to 
them  here. 

Next  Monday  I  open  in  New  York,  with  "Dr.  Jekyll  and 
Mr.  Hyde" — we  act  four  weeks  at  the  Madison  Square  Theatre, 
and  I  shall  do  all  our  repertory,  in  order  to  have  the  people 
engaged  for  England  in  good  working  order.  ^Vhom  to  engage 
as  leading  lady  I  do  not  know !  Miss  Cameron  has  decided  to 
go  to  Paris  and  elsewhere,  for  study  and  for  her  health.  She 
goes  with  Mrs.  Stow — you  remember  Jack!* — his  wife.  I  made 
an  offer  to  Miss  EfEe  Ellsler — but,  albeit  she  is  not  beautiful, 
she  also  required  $400  a  week — which  I  cannot  afford  to  pay. 

I  purchased  a  box  for  the  Wallack  Benefit  and  presented  it 
to  John  Gilbert  and  Mrs.  Gilbert,  Mme.  Ponisi,  etc.  They 
were  much  pleased.  Gilbert  has  since  called  upon  me  here,  but 
I  was  not  in  at  the  time. 

You   ask   me   about  :    I   only   know   him   slightly;    very 

slightly.  I  enquired  about  him,  however,  of  some  musical  friends 
of  mine  and  they  tell  me  he  is  a  musician  of  some  ability — 
quite  a  good  fellow.     A  little  fast  and  rather  in  bad  odor  with 


HENRY    IRVING  87 

the    "Bong-tong"    here — which    ought    to    be    something    in    his 
favor ! 

I  have  only  met  him  at  the  Tavern  Club  here,  of  which  he  is 
a  member,  I  believe.  He  plays  the  violin  very  sweetly.  What 
I  saw  of  him  I  rather  liked.  I  remember  his  being  present  at 
the  initial  performance  of  "Prince  Karl,"  and  his  saying,  after- 
ward, at  the  Tavern  Club — "Et  ees  verra  beautiful — verra  beau- 
tiful— but  what  ees  it  all  about?";  which  was  "verra"  true!  I 
think  he  is  a  Pole,  but  not  a  Jew. 

You  must  let  me  know  what  your  plans  are.  It  is  good  of 
you  to  interest  yourself  on  my  behalf.  'Tis  but  a  poor  play,  as 
you  know,  and  I  think  you  are  apt  to  look  with  too  lenient  an 
eye  upon  my  shortcomings.  I  am  a  damned  bad  actor,  and 
somehow  I  realize  it  more  and  more  every  day. 

Pray  let  me  hear  from  you.  Give  my  heartiest  and  warmest 
greetings  to  Henry  Irving.  I  do  not  write  to  him  because  I 
know  how  much  he  has  on  his  mind  without  being  bored  by  my 
nonsense. 

Ever — always — ^yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


It  was  characteristic  of  Henry  Irving  that  he  felt 
a  lively  interest  in  every  phase  of  human  activity 
and,  particularly,  that  he  was  sympathetic  with  every 
courageous  and  novel  adventure  undertaken  in  his 
profession.  No  man  could  be  more  fervently  desir- 
ous than  Irving  was  that  other  actors,  supposing 
them  to  be  meritorious,  should  meet  with  the  recog- 
nition and  practical  reward  that  merit  deserves. 
He  had  known  and  had  befriended  Mansfield  when 
that  much  younger  actor  was  struggling  through  an 


88  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

arduous  novitiate  in  London,  and  he  failed  not 
to  observe,  with  sympathy  and  satisfaction,  his 
intrepid  and  striking  enterprise,  as  shown  in  the 
choice  and  practical  utilization  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and 
Mr.  Hyde."  Mansfield,  in  meditating  a  pro- 
fessional visit  to  London,  with  his  new  plays, 
believed  that  if  he  could  successfully  appear  in 
that  capital,  preferably  at  the  Lyceum,  his  success 
abroad  would  much  accelerate  liis  advancement  at 
home.  That  belief  he  made  known  to  me,  and  it 
was  subsequent  to  my  mention  of  the  subject  to 
Irving  that  a  correspondence  ensued  between  the  two 
men,  resulting  in  an  arrangement  for  Mansfield's 
appearance  at  Irving's  theatre,  in  the  course  of  the 
season  of  1888-'89.  It  had  already  been  arranged 
that  Irving,  on  his  return  from  America,  would 
make  his  re-entrance  at  the  London  Lyceum  on 
April  14,  and  a  contract  had  been  made  with  the 
eminent  French  actress  Sarah  Bernhardt,  providing 
for  her  advent  at  that  house  in  the  following  July. 
The  opening  for  Mansfield,  who,  on  February  14, 
1888,  had  leased  the  Lyceum  for  a  period  of  several 
weeks,  was  assigned  for  September  4.  The  prospect 
seemed  entirely  auspicious,  and  both  Irving  and 
JNIansfield  viewed  their  plan  with  pleasurable  expecta- 
tion of  a  happy  result.  The  way,  however,  was 
not  to  be  smooth.    Mansfield's  prosperity  with  "Dr. 


SHARP    PRACTICE  89 

Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  had  fired  emulation,  and  as 
Stevenson's  story  of  "The  Strange  Case"  was  not, 
in  America,  protected  by  copyright,  several  plays 
on  the  basis  of  it  were  speedily  manufactured,  in 
imitation  of  Mansfield's  drama, — which,  as  already 
mentioned,  was  to  a  large  extent  his  own  work.  One 
of  those  plays  was  produced  in  New  York,  on  March 
12,  1888,  at  Niblo's  Garden,  by  Mr.  Daniel  E. 
Bandmann  (1840-1905),  an  actor  of  considerable 
ability  and  long  experience,  and  that  performer 
afterward  announced  that  he  would  proceed  with 
it  to  London,  intending  to  present  it  there,  in 
advance  of  Mansfield's  arrival.  Opportunity  in 
London,  however,  is  not  readily  found.  The  only 
theatre  that  Mr.  Bandmann  seemed  likely  to  have 
any  chance  of  securing  for  his  purpose  was  one 
called  the  Opera  Comique.  The  situation,  of  course, 
soon  became  known  to  Irving,  and  necessary  steps 
were  immediately  taken  to  command  it.  A  cable 
message  was  sent  to  Mansfield,  advising  his  pres- 
ence in  London  in  season  for  the  making  of  all  need- 
ful preparations  to  appear  at  the  Lyceum  early 
in  August  instead  of  early  in  September,  as  first 
proposed,  and  the  Opera  Comique  was  leased  by 
Irving,  for  a  considerable  time.  I  remember  the 
amused  and  amusing  voice  and  manner  of  Irving, 
when,  on  one  of  Sarah  Bernhardt's  "Tosca"  nights. 


90  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

he  came  into  the  Lyceum  box  where  I  was  sitting, 
and,  showing  me  a  slip  of  paper,  remarked:  "I  have 
protected  our  friend.  I  have  hired  the  Opera 
Comique,  for  some  extra  rehearsals.  This  is  my 
receipt.  If  Mansfield  comes  over  at  once,  we  shall 
have  no  trouble."  Mansfield  did  come  over  at  once. 
From  June  4  to  June  30  he  was  acting  in  New 
York,  at  the  Madison  Square  Theatre,  but,  after 
the  close  of  that  engagement,  and  on  receipt  of 
Irving's  message,  he  sailed  for  England. 

It  happened  that  Irving  was,  at  this  time,  ram- 
bling in  Cumberland,  with  friends, — among  them 
the  writer  of  this  memoir, — and  Mansfield  presently 
joined  the  party,  at  the  cosey  old  hotel  at  Patter- 
dale,  on  the  shore  of  Ullswater;  and  I  remember  we 
sat  up  all  night,  discussing  his  budget  of  American 
news  and  his  plans  and  prospects  for  a  London 
season.  The  meeting  was  a  delightful  one.  The 
relations  between  Mansfield  and  Irving  were  then 
friendly.  They  did  not  always  remain  so.  They 
fluctuated,  considerably;  and  although,  at  the  last, 
the  two  men  remained  on  ostensibly  amicable  terms 
of  social  intercourse,  the  feeling  existent  between 
them  was  that  of  disapprobation  on  the  part  of 
Irving  and  antipathy  on  the  part  of  Mansfield.  It 
is  necessary  to  allude  to  tliis  subject,  because  those 
actors,   eventually,   became   professionally   opposed, 


HENRY  IRVING  IN  1888 


THE    GREEN-EYED    MONSTER       91 

and  because  circumstances  in  the  stage  career  of 
Mansfield  would  otherwise  remain  unexplained. 
The  subject,  furthermore,  is  an  essential  part  of 
theatrical  history, — a  record  which  should  tell  the 
truth,  and  not  be  encumbered  with  sentimental 
eulogium  and  obscuration  of  facts.  Mansfield  had 
no  reason  to  blame  any  one  but  himself  for  the  loss 
of  Henry  Irving's  active  friendship.  It  was  an 
infirmity  of  his  mind  that  he  ascribed  every  mishap, 
every  untoward  circumstance,  every  reverse  of  for- 
tune, to  some  external,  malign  influence, — never  to 
any  accident,  or  any  error  of  his  judgment,  or  any 
ill-considered  act  or  word,  or  any  fault  of  his  own. 
Accordingly,  when  the  total  result  of  his  London 
ventures  had  proved  disastrous  to  him,  as  by  and 
by  it  did,  he  accounted  for  it  by  adopting  the  fan- 
tastic, ridiculous  notion  that  Irving,  out  of  jealousy, 
had,  from  the  first,  intended  to  ruin  him,  and  by 
great  social  influence  and  control  of  the  press  had 
accomplished  that  purpose.  There  has  been  a  liberal 
superfluity  of  that  kind  of  reproach  against  Henry 
Irving,  in  association  with  the  names  of  several 
distinguished  actors  who  have  appeared  in  London 
and,  according  to  some  of  their  admirers,  have 
been  dissatisfied  with  the  measure  of  commendation 
there  accorded  to  them; — for  example,  Edwin 
Booth,  Lawrence  Barrett,  Mary  Anderson,  Helena 


92  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

Modjeska,  Ada  Rehan,  and  Charles  Coghlan.  The 
disseminators  of  that  frivolous  gossip,  meanwhile, 
have  never  explained  how  Irving  found  time  to 
attend  to  liis  own  complex  and  exacting  business, 
while  attending  so  industriously  to  the  destruction 
of  professional  rivals,  or  how  it  ever  happened  that, 
possessing  such  imperial  control  over  the  society 
and  the  press  of  London,  he  could  not  avoid  occa- 
sional disastrous  failures  and,  at  times,  a  newspaper 
defamation  of  his  own  acting  quite  worthy  of  the 
pens  of  Kenrick  and  Pasquin.  The  fact  is  that 
Irving  earnestly  desired  that  Mansfield  should  meet 
with  great  success  in  London,  believed  that  he  would 
meet  with  it,  and  did  all  in  his  power  to  promote 
that  result. 

Two  letters  that  Mansfield  wrote  to  me,  one 
shortly  before  and  one  immediately  after  the  arrange- 
ment had  been  made  for  his  appearance  at  the  Lon- 
don Lyceum  Theatre,  display  in  a  clear  light  the 
respect  and  affection  with  wliich  he  then  regarded 
Irving. 

The  Croisic,  New  York, 

January  9,  1888. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

What  must  you  think  of  me?  Here  I  have  been  a  week  and 
a  half  and  not  a  line  to  you !  Day  after  day  it  has  been  on 
my  mind,  but  it  is  absolutely  a  fact  that  I  have  not  had  a 
moment  to  collect  my  thoughts  to  say  a  word  to  you. 


"A   GREAT,    GOOD    MAN"  93 

I  am  in  the  midst  of  the  most  important  work  and  projects, 
and  it  is  necessary,  dear  friend,  that  I  should  see  you. 

When  can  you  come  to  me?  I  know  how  busy  you  are,  but 
you  know  also  how  my  work  ties  me  down. 

You  will  be  startled,  I  know,  when  I  tell  you  what  my  project 
is,  and  you  will,  probably,  tell  me  that  I  am  a  fool — and,  frankly, 
I  believe  I  am. 

It  is  good  of  you  to  give  yourself  this  trouble  for  me!  Yes, 
Henry  Irving  is  a  great,  good  man,  and  I  am  entirely  devoted 
to  him.  He  was  charming  to  me.  I  received  a  little  book  from 
him,  the  other  day,  which  I  value  highly. 

Now,  rvhen  will  you  come  to  me? — can't  you  make  it  Satur- 
day evening  next?  For  next  week,  as  I  play  in  Harlem,  I  get 
home  late. 


Always  yours. 


Richard  Mansfield. 


The  Croisic,  New  York, 

February  17,  1888. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  expected  you  to  breakfast  yesterday  and  was  very,  very 
much  disappointed  you  did  not  come.  I  am  off  to-morrow,  for 
many  weeks,  and  do  not  return  here  until  Holy  Week.  At 
least  I  hope  to  see  you  then. 

This  is  a  great  thing  Irving  has  done  for  me — pray  God 
he  sees  the  good  work  he  intends  for  me  accomplished!  But  I 
am  a  bad  actor,  and  I  feel  it  more  and  more  every  day. 

I  received  three  books  of  yours,  from  Boston,  to-day.  A 
thousand  thanks. 

When  I  return  I  am  to  see  something  of  you,  am  I  not?     In 
the  meanwhile,  God  bless  you  and  keep  you.     //  you  see  Irving, 
tell   him  horv  I  feel  about   this — it   is  the  greatest  good   thing 
a  great  man  ever  did  for  a  youngster. 
Always  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


94  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

After  our  festal  night  at  Patterdale  Mansfield 
immediately  proceeded  to  London,  to  begin  rehear- 
sals of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde."  At  first  he 
lodged  at  118  Jermyn  Street,  "over  a  hen-shop," 
as  by  an  early  post  he  facetiously  informed  me:  later 
he  moved  to  183  Piccadilly.  "I  think  we  are  in 
a  good  way,"  he  wrote,  "to  crush  the  tragedian 
Bandmann.  At  all  events  I  have  the  sole  rights 
to  the  play, — from  the  publishers,  Longmans,  Green 
&  Company,  to  whom  Stevenson  sold  Iiis  rights. 
They  protect  me  and  I  indemnify  them.  The  same 
lawyers  who  succeeded  in  the  'Little  Lord  Faun- 
tleroy'  case  are  engaged  and  very  busy.  Bandmann 
is  to  be  met,  and  served  with  papers,  upon  his 
arrival." 

Long  afterward  Mansfield  described  to  me  the 
call  on  those  publishers  that  he  made,  in  company 
with  Irving,  to  adjust  the  copyright  business. 
Irving,  who  sometimes  spoke  indistinctly,  men- 
tioned his  name  to  an  elderly  clerk  who  was  in 
attendance  and  who  neither  understood  nor  recog- 
nized him,  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  repeat  the 
name  several  times.  When  that  dense  person  had 
left  the  room,  to  announce  the  visitors,  Irving  walked 
to  and  fro,  for  a  few  moments,  musing;  then,  turn- 
ing to  his  companion,  he  said,  reflectively:  "Mans- 
field, I  beheve  there  are  some  persons  who  are  igno- 


AT    THE    LYCEUM  95 

rant  of  the  history  of  their  own  times."  Irving, 
it  should  be  noted,  was  a  figure  so  universally 
known  in  London  that,  as  a  rule,  when  he  happened 
to  call  a  cab  and  wished  to  go  to  his  residence,  all 
he  said,  or  needed  to  say,  was  "Home." 

Mansfield's  production  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr. 
Hyde"  was  effected  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre  on 
August  4,  1888.  On  the  morning  of  that  day  he 
addressed  to  me  the  following  letter,  which  indi- 
cates the  vexations  to  which  he  had  been  exposed 
and  the  obstacles  that  he  supposed  to  exist.  His 
notion  that  rapid  changes  of  scenery  could  not  be 
made  at  the  Lyceum  Thealre,  and  were  not  cus- 
tomarily made  there,  was  incorrect.  It  is  possible, 
however,  that  the  mechanics,  scene-shifters,  etc.,  did 
not  care  to  make  them  for  him.  Ungenial  "Sons 
of  Martha"  do  sometimes  behave  in  a  peculiar 
manner  when  working  for  strangers,  or  for  per- 
sons whom  they  do  not  like. 

183  Piccadilly,  London, 

August  4,  1888. 
My  Dear  Willie: — 

Just  a  line  before  undergoing  execution!  I  am  sorry  to  say 
I  am  hoarse,  very  hoarse;  how  could  I  be  otherwise,  with  what 
I  have  undergone  and  the  weather  we  have  had? 

It  would  have  been  quite  enough  work  for  any  one  man  to 
parry  the  attacks  of  Herr  Bandmann.  He  has  kept  my  hands 
completely  full  for  the  last  week.  Last  night  he  announced  a 
full    dress    rehearsal   at    the    Olympic,    and   issued    over    1,500 


96  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

invitations, — all  without  the  consent  of  the  management!  Of 
course  they  stopped  it,  and  he  then  had  the  audacity  to  send  to 
me  for  permission  to  give  it  at  the  Opera  Comique!  Of  course 
we  were  compelled  to  decline!  All  the  same,  he  issued  slips  of 
paper  to  the  crowd  which  had  assembled  before  the  Olympic, 
inviting  them  to  the  Opera  Comique,  and  he  would  have  forced 
his  way  in,  had  I  not  placed  commissionaires  and  police  around 
the  building.     Lively,  is  it  not? 

I  am  sorry  to  say,  like  all  great  things  and  most  great  men, 
the  Lyceum  is  not  faultless.  I  have  had,  and  am  having,  a  hard 
time.  They  are,  of  course,  accustomed  to  slow  work — to  taking 
months  to  prepare  a  play.  They  do  not  understand  my  rapid 
methods  and  swift  action.  There  is  no  discipline,  and  crowds  of 
loafers  about  the  stage,  who  trip  over  one  another  and  do  noth- 
ing. The  men  are  slow  to  obey  and  argumentative,  and  full  of 
importance  and  the  conviction  that  they  know  it  all,  or,  at 
least,  much  better  than  we  do.  The  company  complain  of  the 
darkness  of  the  dressing-rooms  and  inadequate  conveniences, 
compared  with  our  American  theatres.  Scenery  which  has  ar- 
rived in  St.  Louis  or  Grand  Rapids  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  and 
been  used,  without  a  hitch,  at  eight  in  the  evening,  and  without 
a  dress  rehearsal,  required  all  Thursday  night,  all  day  Friday, 
and  a  scenic  rehearsal  which  lasted  from  eight  yesterday  evening 
until  two  this  morning!  and  was  the  most  imperfect,  at  that, 
it  has  been  my  bad  fortune  to  attend. 

I  am  much  distressed,  very  weary,  very  hoarse,  and  very 
anxious,  and  I  have  had  too  much  work  and  too  little  play  for  a 
small  boy. 

God  bless  you — I  shall  see  you  to-night.  Pray  God,  all  may 
yet  go  well!  Ever  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  legal  measures  that  were  taken  to  protect 
Mansfield's  rights  to  the  use  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and 
Mr.  Hyde"  proved  decisively  successful,   and  Mr. 


A    FINE    START  97 

Bandmann's  attempt  to  forestall  him  was  foiled, — 
much  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  fair-minded  persons. 
Mr.  Bandmann  had  falsely  proclaimed  liimself,  in 
America,  the  original  representative  of  Dr.  Jekyll 
and  Mr.  Hyde^ — the  fact  being  that  Mansfield  had 
acted  the  dual  part  ten  months  before  it  was  assumed 
by  any  other  person.  It  should  also  be  observed 
that  the  plan, — likewise  stolen  from  him, — of  weav- 
ing a  love-story  into  the  analysis  of  JehylVs  complex 
nature,  as  set  forth  by  Stevenson,  was  original  with 
Mansfield,  and  that  it  was  he  who  led  the  way,  and 
showed  other  actors  how  thQ  abstruse  theme  could 
be  made  practically  dramatic.  Four  days  before 
Mansfield  appeared,  Irving,  who  was  leaving  home, 
for  a  tour  in  Switzerland,  and  who  had  seen  a 
rehearsal  of  the  play,  signified  his  auspicious  view 
of  our  friend's  advent  at  the  Lyceum  by  this  mes- 
sage to  me:  "Mansfield  will  be  splendid."  That 
augury  was  fulfilled.  I  remember  the  occasion  as 
one  of  exceptional  interest.  The  audience  was 
numerous  and  of  a  brilliantly  intellectual  character. 
Upon  his  first  entrance  Mansfield  was  welcomed 
with  two  distinct,  hearty  rounds  of  applause,  and 
he  was  recalled  to  the  stage  five  times  in  the  course 
of  the  representation.  His  voice  was  a  little  hoarse 
and  once  or  twice  his  movement  was  slow  and  arti- 
ficial, because  of  extreme  nervous  excitement,  but 


98  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

he  acted  with  intrepid  spirit  and,  generally,  with 
amazing  vigor.  The  crowning  artistic  charm  of  his 
impersonation  was  its  preservation  of  unity.  The 
two  sides  of  the  one  nature  were  clearly  shown, — 
the  concrete  result  being  one  man,  not  two.  The 
element  of  terror  was  made  duly  prominent,  but  the 
element  of  pathos  was  made  to  exceed  that  of  terror. 
Jekyll  was  invested  with  poetic  sentiment:  Hyde 
was  embodied  as  loathsome  and  venomous,  but  very 
awful.  Hyde's  perception  of  the  invisible  ghost  of 
his  murdered  victim  was  made  to  provide  a  moment 
of  truly  infernal  exultation,  and  it  gave  the  assem- 
blage a  thrill  of  horror.  In  the  scene  of  the  trans- 
formation of  Hyde  to  Jekyll  JMansfield's  splendid 
outburst  of  passion,  combined  with  his  startling 
demeanor  and  ever-increasing  volume  of  vocal 
power,  caused  a  prodigious  effect.  Often  as  he 
afterward  played  that  exacting  dual  part,  I  do  not 
think  he  ever  played  it  in  a  more  inspired  mood 
than  he  did  on  that  critical  and  important  night.  He 
did  not  win  the  public  heart:  hearts  are  not  won 
by  horrors:  but  he  made  it  clear  that  he  was  a 
unique  actor  and  one  entirely  worthy  of  Iiigh  intel- 
lectual consideration. 

On  the  next  morning  I  sent  to  him  this  message, 
— interesting,  perhaps,  as  conveying  first  impressions 
of  a  memorable  occasion. 


CONGRATULATION  99 

Hammersmith, 

August  5,  1888. 
Dear  Dick: — 

I  am  off  for  Scotland.  I  expect  to  be  absent  for  about  ten 
days.  I  congratulate  you  on  your  success.  The  piece  was 
thought  dreary  and  tiresome,  but  you  were  greatly  admired,  and 
I  think  the  public  will  grow  to  be  very  fond  of  you.  Don't  feel 
hurt  at  the  criticisms,  if  any  of  them  are  sharp.  The  Second 
Act  should  be  carried  more  rapidly.  Miss  Sheridan  should  be 
told  to  let  herself  out  a  bit.  The  hag  needs  more  effect.  There 
is  a  little  too  much  of  Jekyll's  misery — and  misery  never  was 
popular,  on  the  stage, — or  off!  I  wish  you  would  get  a  new 
wig.  Fox  could  make  a  much  better  one  than  that  you  now 
wear.  And  you  ought  to  make  Jekyll  a  more  picturesque  fel- 
low,— more  "taking," — even  at  a  sacrifice  of  strict  correctness. 
He  is  heavy  now,  at  least  he  was,  last  night,  in  act  second.  Your 
first  entrance  should  be  made  striking,  and  there  the  appearance 
becomes  of  vital  importance.  I  was  delighted  with  your  first 
act  and  with  the  scene  of  the  change.  Your  Speech  was  in  ex- 
cellent taste.  Miss  Cameron  played  better  than  ever  before, 
because  so  moderate  and  symmetrical.  But  tell  her  to  be  dis- 
tinct and  vigorous.  She  needs  great  care  of  her  health, — 
exercise  and  good  sleep,  so  that  she  may  not  be  weak  and  seem 
fragile.  I  was  surprised  by  the  good  judgment  and  the  grace 
of  her  acting.     Sullivan  also  was  tasteful  and  judicious. 

Ever  yours, 

W.  W. 

After  one  of  those  Jekyll  and  Hyde  nights  he 
wrote  to  me: 

.  .  .  Frith,  the  painter,  who  remembered  my  having  been  to 
him  once,  for  his  opinion  upon  some  sketches  of  mine,  came  to 
see  me  last  night — came  to  my  dressing-room,  after  the  play, — 
deeply    moved    and    impressed,    and    said    I    reminded    him    of 


100  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

Macready!  And  he  thought  my  voice  was  finer.  He's  a  bluff 
old  fellow,  and  I  think  he  meant  it.  I  am  foolish  enough  to 
be  quite  happy  over  it! 

Always,  dear  friend,  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


On  his  return  from  Switzerland  Irving  attended 
a  performance  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  and 
after  it  had  ended  he  and  Mansfield  met,  for  sup- 
per, at  the  Garrick  Club,  where  one  of  those  trivial 
incidents  occurred  which  sometimes  are  more  con- 
ducive than  acts  of  positive  hostility  could  be,  to 
the  disturbance  of  friendly  relations  between  indi- 
viduals. Attendance  at  the  Lyceum,  large  at  first, 
had  begun  to  dwindle,  and  Mansfield,  dissatisfied 
and  somewhat  depressed  in  mind,  and  no  doubt 
weakened  by  the  prodigious  exertions  that  he  had 
been  making,  spoke  much  of  liis  discontent  and  of 
the  tremendous  strain  imposed  upon  him  by  the  act- 
ing of  such  painfully  difficult  parts  and  of  the 
warnings  given  to  him  by  physicians.  Ir^^ng,  at 
most  times  prone  to  more  or  less  playful  satire, 
listened  observantly,  and  then,  in  his  bland,  piquant 
way,  replied:  "Ah — yes — interesting — very:  but, 
Mansfield,  my  boy,  if — if  it  isn't  wholesome,  I 
wouldn't  do  it"  No  unkindness  could  have  been 
intended,  but  a  sensitive  man,  especially  one  in  whose 
temperament    there    is   much    of    the    woman,    will 


TRIALS  101 

sometimes  remember  with  resentment  the  satirical 
pleasantry  of  a  friend,  long  after  he  has  forgotten  a 
substantial  kindness.  It  was  about  this  time  that  I 
received  from  Irving  (Monday,  August  27,  1888), 
a  letter  in  which  he  said: 

"Poor  Mansfield!  He's  a  little  hipped  just  now,  and  thinks 
the  world's  against  him.  But  I  did  my  best  to  'shake  him  up' 
and  to  show  that  he's  everything  to  be  grateful  for.  He's  made 
a  thorough  success  with  the  public — not  every  man's  good  for- 
tune. I'm  very  fond  of  him  and  hope  his  boat  may  ever  sail 
as  freely  as  it  does  now." 

The  boat,  however,  was  not  sailing  as  freely  as 
it  might  have  done  and  as  the  actor's  friends 
assuredly  wished  that  it  might  do.  The  trend  of 
his  fortunes  and  the  direction  of  his  thoughts,  at  this 
time,  are  well  evinced  in  the  following  letter,  received 
in  Paris: 

August  30,  1888. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  have  your  good  kind  letter:  you  are,  thank  God!  always  the 
same.  Some  of  my  idols  here,  however,  have  fallen.  It 
resolves  itself  into  a  hard  struggle, — and  a  struggle  it  shall  be. 
I  have  youth  and  strength  on  my  side.  Our  friends  are  rather 
inclined  to  advise  me  to  finish  up  quickly  and  go  home.  I  shall 
not  finish  up  quickly,  and  I  shall  not  go  home — just  yet — altho'  I 
know  that  very  powerful  forces  will  be,  probably,  arrayed 
against  me.  Business  is  slightly  improving  and  will  doubtless 
grow  better  as  we  reach  the  middle  of  September  and  October. 

I  want  some  charming  first  piece,  and  I  am  looking  for  it; 


102  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

nothing  in  which  to  appear  myself,  but  for  five  or  six  ladies  and 
one  or  two  men;  it  is  difficult  to  find.  I  should  then  begin,  as 
the  nights  grow  longer,  at  7:30,  and  with  Dr.  J.  &  H.  at  8:30. 
I  think  the  play  will  draw  a  good  business,  in  spite  of  all.  I 
shall  have  the  "Parisian  Romance"  knocked  into  shape  and  do  it 
(I  think  at  the  Globe),  and  follow  it  with  "Nero"  and  "Richard 
III."     Voila! 

Please  say  not  a  word  to  any  one:  what  I  say  to  you  I  say 
to  myself.  Would  you  could  be  with  me  and  by  my  side  always ! 
I  shall  get  all  the  money  I  can,  and  make  myself  as  strong  as 
possible  in  that  particular.  I  have  seen  Irving  but  that  one  day, 
and  heard  nothing  of  him  since. 

I  hope   Daly  is  doing  finely  in   Paris.     Will  you   remember 
me  most  kindly  to  Miss  Rehan  ?     When  do  you  return  ? 
Always,  dear  Winter, 

Richard. 

Mansfield's  season  at  the  Lyceum  extended  from 
August  4  to  December  1,  and,  financially,  it  was 
a  failure.  On  October  1  he  presented  "A  Parisian 
Romance,"  and  gave  his  fine  performance  of  Baron 
Chevrial.  October  10  he  made  the  mistake  of  pre- 
senting "Prince  Karl"  for  a  Benefit  (for  the  poor 
of  the  East  End),  so  that  when  it  was  brought  for- 
ward, on  October  13,  as  his  regular  attraction,  it 
lacked  the  gloss  of  novelty  and  did  not  attract  much 
notice.  He  had  been  wisely  advised  relative  to  the 
Benefit  expedient,  but  the  good  counsel, — contained 
in  the  following  letter, — of  one  of  the  most  experi- 
enced and  judicious  of  London  managers  had  been 
disregarded : 


GOOD    COUNSEL  103 

Theatre  Royal,  Manchester, 

October  9,  1888. 
My  Dear  Mr,   Mansfield: — 

Mr.  Irving  asks  me  to  say  for  him  that  he  would  be  delighted 
to  aid  in  any  way  he  can.  He  thinks,  however,  that  to  make 
him  a  patron  of  a  performance  in  the  Lyceum  would  do  harm 
instead  of  good,  as  it  would  look  like  a  "put  up"  thing.  He 
quite  thinks,  as  I  thought  myself,  that  you  would  do  very  much 
better  not  to  have  a  benefit  for  a  charity  on  your  first  night, 
as  such  is  so  often  done  in  London  that  it  has  come  to  be  taken 
by  the  critics  and  the  public  as  a  bid  for  favor.  You  make 
your  play  more  important  by  giving  it  on  its  merits,  and 
friends,  in  London,  in  such  matters,  do  not  count  for  a  row  of 
pins.  Very  much  better  have  the  good  results  of  a  fort- 
night yourself,  and,  as  the  Yellow  Fever  benefit  seems  to  be  off, 
from  your  having  another  subject,  you  need  not  have  a  Charity 
Benefit  at  all.  We  all  certainly  think  that  you  would  do  better 
not  to  have  a  benefit. 

Yours   very  truly, 

Bram  Stoker. 

Upon  the  fluctuations  of  business  while  Mansfield 
remained  at  the  Lyceum,  and  upon  the  critical  dis- 
cussion that  ensued  as  to  his  impersonations  of 
Chevrial  and  Prince  Karl,  it  would  be  unprofitable 
to  linger.     Toward  the  last  he  wrote: 

Dear  Old  Fellow: — 

I  think  it  very  unkind  of  you  not  to  let  me  know  that  you 
were  back  in  town.  Overwhelmed  with  work,  I  lost  the  pencilled 
lines  you  sent  me,  with  your  address,  and  was  waiting  to  hear 
of  your  return.  I  have  much  to  say  to  j'^ou, — and  above  all  to 
thank  you.   ...  A  true,  staunch  friend  ever. 


104  LIFE  OF  MANSFIELD 

Things  are  looking  very  much  better  than  at  first.  Let  me 
know  the  moment  you  get  back  from  Bath,  or  I  shall  never 
forgive  you.  During  the  day  I  love  to  spend  some  quiet  hours  on 
the  river,  and  want  you  with  me !  Was  with  Toole  until  late 
last  night.  You  will  see  him  in  Bath. 
Yours  as  ever, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

After  liis  season  at  the  Lyceum  had  ended  Mans- 
field acted  for  one  week  in  Liverpool,  by  way  of 
reinforcing  his  purse,  and  before  returning  to  Lon- 
don he  visited  Derby  and  gave  two  performances 
there,  for  the  benefit  of  the  school  which  he  had 
attended  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  which  he  always 
remembered  with  affectionate  interest.  "I  had  one 
bright  day  in  Derby," — so  he  wrote  to  me, — "where, 
at  the  old  school,  I  met  with  a  welcome  worthy  of 
a  King — a  packed  house  and  endless  cheers  and 
calls.  After  the  play  the  boys  took  the  horses  out 
of  the  carriage  and  dragged  me, — they  yelling  Hke 
Comanches, — to  the  school.  I  played  t\vice,  and 
netted  a  handsome  sum,  for  a  new  racquet  court  and 
a  new  chapel."  To  that  visit  his  thoughts  often 
reverted,  and  more  than  once  he  told  me  it  was  the 
one  unalloyed  happiness  of  the  year  he  then  passed 
in  England.  The  Lyceum  season,  while  it  had 
increased  his  prestige  as  an  actor,  had  left  Iiim  in 
debt,  to  Irving,  for  rent  of  the  theatre  and  other 
expenses,  .£2675.    With  that  situation  he  had  now 


ENTERPRISE  105 

to  contend.  He  did  not  lose  heart,  however,  but 
determined  on  another  and  still  more  onerous  ven- 
ture,— the  resumption  of  the  plan  he  had  formed 
before  leaving  New  York,  of  acting  in  London  in 
one  of  the  great  plays  of  Shakespeare.  With  this 
purpose  he  hired  the  Globe  Theatre  and  began 
preparations  for  a  magnificent  production  of 
"Richard  III." 

In  the  meanwhile,  after  a  visit  to  various  places  in 
Scotland  and  Ireland,  during  which  time  I  lost  sight 
of  him,  I  had  returned  to  New  York,  and  the  first 
authentic  news  from  him  came  in  this  letter: 


Long's  Hotel,  New  Bond  Street,  London, 

December  16,  1888. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

A  merry  Christmas,  dear  old  man,  and  a  happy  New  Year! 
If  I  have  not  written  before,  you  know  how  wild  with  work  and 
how  driven  to  death  and  worried  I  have  been.  Had  I  good 
news  of  myself  I  should  have  written  often,  but  to  drone  out  the 
same  old  story,  of  bad  houses  and  poor  business,  is  as  bad  as 
playing  to  them,  and  Heaven  knows  that  is  bad  enough. 

I  received  a  charming  book  of  poems  from  Scotland, — poems 
of  yours;  and,  when  I  have  a  moment,  I  sit  down  at  the  piano 
and  try  to  sing  them,  to  extemporized  music. 
Irving  is  in  town,  but  he  cometh  not  to  me. 
We  open  the  Globe  on  Saturday. 

Well,  all  blessings  be  upon  you  for  the  New  Year;  sometimes 
write  to  me,  and  don't  forget  altogether 

Your  true  and  grateful  friend, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


106  IJFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

He  opened  the  Globe  Theatre  on  December  22, 
1888,  with  "Prince  Karl,"  but  he  had  not  been  act- 
ing long  in  that  play  before  his  voice,  always  very 
sensitive  to  the  London  climate,  became  practically 
disabled,  and  he  was  obhged  to  rest.  An  arrange- 
ment thereupon  was  made,  with  the  accomplished 
English  comedian  Lionel  B rough,  to  fill  the  time 
with  that  fine  old  comedy  "She  Stoops  to  Conquer," 
and  Mansfield  went  to  Bournemouth,  where  he 
devoted  liimself  assiduously  to  the  study  of  "Richard 
III.",  so  that  he  might  present  that  tragedy  at  the 
Globe  as  soon  as  he  should  be  able  to  act.  His 
generous  friend  Eben  D.  Jordan  had  come  to  his 
assistance  in  that  formidable  undertaking,  and  all 
requisite  preparations  w^ere  now  rapidly  made  for 
the  worthy  fulfilment  of  his  momentous  design. 
Among  the  allies  whom,  fortunately,  at  that  time, 
he  was  able  to  interest  in  his  enterprise  were  the 
learned  and  exact  Shakespeare  scholar,  Walter  Her- 
ries  Pollock,  and  the  accomplished  antiquarian,  J. 
G.  Waller.  Mansfield  himself  had  made  a  stage 
version  of  the  play,  reverting  to  the  original  text, 
though  making  use  of  some  of  Gibber's  cogs  and 
words.  Seymour  Lucas  was  employed  to  design 
dresses  and  armor  for  the  production,  Edward 
German  to  compose  incidental  music,  and  William 
Telbin  and  others  to  paint  scenery.     The  tragedy 


Photograph  by  Notman  Company,  Boston 

EBEN  D.  JORDAN 


RICHARD    III.  107 

was  presented  at  the  Globe  on  March  16,  1889,  and 
Mansfield's  embodiment  of  Glo'ster,  then  given  for 
the  first  time  on  any  stage,  became,  and  for  some 
time  remained,  one  of  the  principal  themes  of  dis- 
cussion in  the  society  and  press  of  London.  His 
own  account  of  the  venture  follows: 

Langham  Hotel,  Portland   Palace, 

London,  W.,  March  24,  1889- 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

At  last  and  successfully ! !  Considering  how  much  we  have 
undertaken  and  what  an  enormous  task  it  is  to  present  Shake- 
speare here,  I  think  we  have  every  reason  to  more  than  con- 
gratulate ourselves.  I  am  sorry  your  version  did  not  come 
sooner,  but  as  it  is,  it  has  been  of  great  service  to  me.    .    .    . 

The  fools  here  do  not  know  Gibber  from  Shakespeare 
— I  have  almost  entirely  done  without  Gibber  and  restored 
Shakespeare's  lines — but  because  I  have  to  a  large  extent  fol- 
lowed the  "scenario"  of  Gibber,  they  are  under  the  impression 
that  the  lines  must  be  Gibber — which  they  are  not.  However, 
thank  God  we  have  succeeded — and  that  is  the  main  point.  On 
the  opening  night — we  commenced  with  an  uproar  in  the  pit; 
everybody  against  us  or  doubtful;  the  close  was  a  triumph — 
an  ovation !  Last  night  the  house  was  packed  and  very  many 
people  were  turned  away.  So  it  has  come  at  last.  I  have 
waited  a  long  time. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  long  to  be  at  home  again — England 
does  not  agree  with  me;  I  am  ill  and  wretched;  my  throat 
has  not  been  well  for  months — and  the  strain  and  anxiety  is 
something  too  fearful.  What  would  I  not  give  to  be  in  my 
rooms  at  the  Groisic — you  and  I,  over  a  glass  of  grog  and  a 
cigar  (a  big  one — I  have  not  smoked  for  a  month),  and  you 
"in  the  mood"! 

There  are  more  hypocrites,  liars,  parasites,   and   sycophants 


108  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

here  to  the  square  mile  than  in  America  to  the  square  State. 
I  know  we  have  some  of  it  in  America — but  here  it  is  a  recog- 
nized, established,  and  admired  business,  and  the  man  or  woman 
who  does  not  practice  it  is  considered  a  fool  and  liberally 
cold-shouldered. 

August! — will  see  me  home  again,  please  God,  and  it  will 
take  much  to  drag  me  thence.  I  am  very,  very  busy,  so  I  can- 
not   write    much    now. 

God  bless  you,  old  fellow. 

Ever  yours, 

Dick. 

Among  the  many  personal  tributes  that  Mansfield 
received,  on  the  occasion  of  his  performance  of 
Richard  the  Third,  two  letters  from  the  poet 
Robert  Buchanan  gave  him  much  gratification.  The 
author  of  such  poems  as  "Two  Sons,"  "The  Ballad 
of  Judas  Iscariot,"  and  "The  Vision  of  the  Man 
Accurst"  was  a  person  whose  praise  was  worth  hav- 
ing. He  is  dead  now,  and  in  his  death  a  fine  genius 
perished.  Buchanan's  first  letter,  a  copy  of  which 
was  sent  to  me  by  Mansfield,  was  first  published  in 
"The  New  York  Tribune,"  April  9,  1889. 

London,  March  26,  1889. 
My  Dear  Sir: — 

Outside  praise  is  of  little  value  to  one  who  works  from  his 
own  point  of  insight,  but,  knowing  from  experience  that  a 
friendly  wish  may  be  pleasure,  I  venture  to  tell  you  how  much 
I  was  impressed  by  your  Richard  the  Third. 

Your  Shakespearean  work  seems  to  me  about  as  fine  as  it 
could  well  be.     I   do  not  understand  those  critics   who,  while 


THE    POET    BUCHANAN  109 

praising   it,   say   that   it   is   not   Richard.     To   me   it   seems    an 
absolute  realization  of  that  demoniac  creature. 

You  have  one  unusual  gift,  in  addition  to  your  subtler  ones, — 
that  of  music  in  the  voice,  which  makes  a  poor  devil  of  a  poet 
hunger  to  have  his  lines  delivered  by  such  an  organ. 

I  went,  prepared  to  see  an  excellent  piece  of  acting:  I  found 
a  masterpiece  of  characterization.  And  what  a  delight  it  is  at 
last  to  find  an  actor  who  is  thoroughly  alive,  who  is  perfectly 
fearless  in  his  intellectual  agility,  and  never  falters  one  moment 
in  his  execution  of  a  daring  conception. 

I  just  write  these  few  words  of  congratulation.  Later  I 
may  have  an  opportunity  of  writing  to  the  public  also. 

Yours  truly, 

Robert  Buchanan. 

To  Richard  Mansfield,  Esq. 

"Leyland,"  Arkwright  Road, 

Hampstead,  N.W.,  March  27,   1889- 
Dear  Mr.  Mansfield: — 

This  road  is  at  the  top  of  St.  John's  Avenue,  and  about  ten 
minutes  from  the  Swiss  Cottage.  My  man  can  look  after  your 
fiery  steed  when  you  call,  but,  as  I  am  somewhat  uncertain  in 
my  movements,  you  might  let  me  have  a  line,  or  a  wire,  to 
announce  your  advent.  I  wouldn't  like  to  miss  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you.  Would  Friday  or  Saturday  next  suit  you.''  If  so, 
I'll  await  your  message. 

Pray  believe  me  when  I  say  that  I  seldom  go  out  of  my  way 
to  write  letters  of  compliment,  and  that  my  message  to  you  was 
a  most  unusual  one,  for  me.  I  at  the  same  time  sent  a  line  of 
congratulation  to  the  sweet  child  who  played  the  Prince.  I 
mention  this  as  there  are  some  idiots  who  are  always  writing 
letters,  and  you  might  fancy  me  a  "gusher."  Indeed,  when  I 
think  of  it,  I  can  hardly  remember  ever  having  done  such  a 
thing  before, — from  which  you  may  gather  at  least  one  thing, 
that  I  was  strongly  and  deeply  moved. 


110  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

There  are  mean  souls  who  bend  down  only  to  the  sun  in  its 
meridian.  /  turn  to  the  splendor  of  the  dawn!  If  you  possess 
pathos  in  any  proportion  to  your  power,  I  believe  you  will 
move  mountains.  I  saw  strange  possibilities  of  pathos  in  sev- 
eral of  your  scenes,  notably  that  with  Lady  Anne,  when  your 
face  became  wonderfully  tender  and  spiritual — but  your  great- 
est conjuration  will  come  out  of  your  vitality:  it  is  indeed  a 
pleasure  to  find  an  actor  so  splendidly  alive. 
With  all  good  wishes, 

Yours  very  truly, 

Robert  Buchanan. 
Richard   Mansfield,   Esq. 

Mansfield's  production  of  "Richard  III."  was, 
by  various  classes  and  persons,  in  London,  received 
with  much  favor.  There  were,  of  course,  dissent- 
ing voices:  nothing  is  ever  satisfactory  to  every- 
body: but  the  public  opinion,  in  general,  was  that 
of  approbation.  The  attendance  at  the  theatre, 
however,  presently  began  to  lessen,  and  the  actor 
himself  began  to  droop,  in  weariness  and  discontent. 
Social  attentions  were  bestowed  upon  him  in 
abundance:  they  always  are,  in  such  cases — that  is, 
when  an  actor  has,  for  any  reason,  become  a  sen- 
sation of  the  hour;  but  often  they  were  insincere 
and  insignificant,  and  to  him,  certainlj^  they  afforded 
little  if  any  pleasure  and  no  compensation  for  the 
lack  of  sufficient  public  support.  He  continued  to 
present  "Richard  III."  until  the  first  of  June,  when 
liis  lease  of  the  Globe  Theatre  expired  and  his  Lon- 


HOME    AGAIN  111 

don  season  was  ended.  His  thoughts  and  feehngs 
all  tills  wliile,  can  be  divined  from  the  following  let- 
ter, one  of  several  to  the  same  effect,  that  he  sent 
to  me,  in  the  course  of  that  engagement: 

Langham  Hotel,  Portland  Place, 

London,  W.,  May  18,  1889- 
My  Dear  Willie:— 

I  had  your  letter — always  kind  and  thoughtful,  and  I  wish 
all  the  world  were  like  you.  Read  the  extracts  and  your 
essay  with  great  interest  and  will  reserve  my  opinion  until  we 
meet,  when  we  will  have  a  discussion  from  12  to  6  a.m. — 
altho',  of  course,  you're  quite  right. — The  discussion  will  be 
in  the  shape  of  sparkling  wine  and  fragrant  Havanas.  I  have 
much  to  tell  you,  but  it  had  better  not  be  written.  You  are 
not  coming  over  this  summer?  ...  I  shall  be  glad,  very 
glad  when  the  season  is  over — and  I  may  quit  these  beautiful 
but  inhospitable  shores  and  this  apathetic  people.  The  amount 
of  courtesy  I  have  received  from  my  brother  actors,  etc.,  here 
would  not  fill  a  pea-nut  shell !  The  lying — backbiting — intrigu- 
ing— slandering,  underhand  dealing  and  robbery  would,  on  the 
other  hand,  require  a  very  large  store  house.  No, — the  people 
are  not  pleasant. 

Yours  ever, 

Richard. 

In  July,  1889,  he  arrived  in  America,  crowned 
with  the  laurel  of  distinction,  heavily  laden  with 
debt,  somewhat  impaired  in  health,  much  distressed 
in  mind,  but  resolute  to  attempt  new  ventures,  to  pay 
his  debts,  to  set  liis  affairs  in  order,  and,  by  redoubled 
exertions,  to  win  the  leadership  of  the  American 
stage.     From  that  time  onward,  during  a  period  of 


112  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

eighteen  years,  till  the  close  of  his  career,  his  activity 
was  great,  his  labor  was  incessant,  and  he  continu- 
ously occupied  a  conspicuous  position,  not  only  in 
the  public  gaze  but  in  the  critical  mind, — for  in  the 
realm  of  the  Theatre  he  seemed  to  be  everywhere 
present  and  always  doing  something  new.  His  first 
presentment  in  America  of  his  version  of  "Richard 
III."  and  his  fresh  view  of  GWster  was  made  at 
the  Boston  Globe,  on  October  21,  1889,  and  it 
was  the  cause  of  much  discussion.  Immediately 
after  the  performance,  that  night,  many  of  his 
acquaintances  assembled,  by  his  invitation,  in  a  parlor 
of  the  Parker  House,  for  supper,  and  I  remember 
that  the  decorum  of  the  occasion  took  at  first  the 
impressive  form  of  frosty  silence,  which  at  length 
was  broken  by  a  cheery  voice,  saying,  "Mansfield, 
where  did  you  get  that  dreadful  music?"  Long 
afterward  he  playfully  referred  to  that  incident, 
as  typical  of  a  kind  of  critical  candor  that  might 
well  have  been  spared, — particularly  as  the  music, 
far  from  being  "dreadful,"  was  exceptionally  fine. 
Congratulation,  however,  was  not  withheld  from  him, 
either  then  or  later.  His  peculiar  theory  as  to  the 
character  of  Glo'ster,  a  theory  based  more  on  his- 
torical studies  than  on  Shakespeare's  play,  was  not 
generally  accepted, — being,  in  fact,  viewed,  for  the 
most  part,  with  indifference,  notwithstanding  that  he 


INNOVATION  113 

made  it  ingeniously  effective  by  novel  treatment, — 
but  the  sustained  power  of  his  performance  and  cer- 
tain special  beauties  of  it  were  recognized  and 
warmly  commended,  by  many  pens  in  many  cities: 
for  on  the  first  night  of  Mansfield's  Richard  the 
Third,  in  Boston,  many  of  the  leading  news- 
papers of  the  country  were  represented  in  the 
audience,  and  there  was  an  eager  disposition  to 
sustain  him  in  his  earnest  and  valiant  endeavor. 
Four  days  later  he  wrote  to  me,  recording  his 
prosperity : 

Boston,  October  25,  1889. 
My  Dear  Old  Fellow: — 

Your  article  was  indeed  superb,  and  I  do  not  know,  and 
cannot  imagine,  when  you  found  time  to  write  so  thoroughly, 
so  finely.  Praise  from  you  is  praise  indeed,  and  as  fine  and 
lasting  as  a  monument. 

I  wish — I  wish  I  could  play  up  to  it.  I  have  quite  realized 
what  you  say  about  lack  of  incisiveness  and  I  find  the  difference 
apparent  to  myself  in  my  acting  since  the  first  night.  A  twelve 
hours'  rehearsal  and  the  anxieties  of  a  first  night  are  not 
inducive  to  fine  and  precise  expression,  nor  can  Richard  be 
played  upon  Apollinaris.  I  think  a  little  Hungarian  wine  with 
seltzer  helps  me. 

The  houses  have  been  very  fine:  $1,200,  $1,100,  $1,400,  $1,500 
(I  am  leaving  out  the  odd  dollars).  I  think  this  is  good  busi- 
ness, and  it  bids  fair  to  be  better  still.  Please  God  it 
may. 

I  will  and  have  borne  in  mind  all  you  say  about  Irving — 
I  will  have  none  but  the  kindest  feelings:  the  business  part  of 
it  shall  be  at  once  attended  to. 


114  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

And  now,  thank  you,  thank  you,  thank  you,  for  the  good — 
the  great,  great  good  you  have  done  me ! ! 

Yours  quite, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

It  was  remarked  by  the  representative  sage  of 
English  criticism  that  fame  is  hke  the  shuttlecock, 
which  must  be  struck  at  both  ends  in  order  that  it 
may  be  kept  up,  and,  fortunately  for  Mansfield, 
there  were  adverse  as  well  as  propitious  reviews  of 
his  performance;  and,  although  he  did  not  like 
them,  they  contributed  to  liis  advancement. 

Boston,  October  27,  1889- 
Dear  Old   Fellow:— 

.  ,  .  The  Boston  critics  are  tearing  the  flesh  from  oflf  my 
bones — but  we  played  to  $10,000  all  the  same!  $3,000  yester- 
day in  the  two  performances. 

God  bless  you,  old  fellow — I  shall  never,  never  be  able  to 
repay  what  you  have  done  for  me. 

Ever,  ever. 
Yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

A  little  later  the  business  had  begun  to  decline 
and  he  became  desirous  of  a  change  of  bill.  Toward 
the  end  of  his  Boston  engagement  he  made  his  first 
experiment  with  the  Ibsen  Drama,  having  been  per- 
suaded to  that  fad  by  Miss  Beatrice  Cameron,  then 
the  leading  actress  in  his  company,  as  she  long  con- 
tinued to  be.     On   October  30   an   afternoon   per- 


RICHARD  MANSFIELD  IN  1889 

'Look    with   a   gentle   eye   upon    thin    wretch'' 

Hi: XII V    VI.,    -\    Act    III.,    Sc.   3. 

(Quotation  selct'tefl  by   himst'lf) 


BEATRICE    CAJNIERON  115 

formance  was  given  of  "A  Doll's  House,"  Miss 
Cameron  appearing  as  Nora,  and  acting  that  part 
exceedingly  well. 

Parker  House,  Boston, 

November  1,  1889- 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Thank  you  for  another  kind  letter.  I  am  much  troubled 
to  find  another  play.  I  am  very  tired  of  being  the  ruffian 
always  and  feel  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  my  health 
and  the  well-being  of  my  mind  that  I  should  play  once  a  week, 
at  least,  some  genial  character.  I  can  find  nothing — nothing; 
and  it  must  be  something  that  will  cost  nothing  in  production. 
Can  you  not  think  of  something  for  me? 

I  shall  be  in  New  York  on  Monday  morning — indeed  I 
shall  arrive  late  on  Sunday,  leaving  here  at  3.  If  you  are  in 
town  on  Monday  morning  come  in  to  the  Croisic — but  do  not 
drag  yourself  there  for  me. 

I  realize  all  you  say  to  me,  and  I  will  endeavor  to  follow 
your  advice. 

The  weather  is  very  trying  and  the  strain  great.  Business  is 
good.  Miss  Cameron  has  made  a  marvellous  success — as  great 
as  it  was  unexpected;  she  was  as  near  great  as  I  ever  saw  an 
actress — it  was  a  revelation  and  an  amazement  to  me  and  to  the 
audience.  I  need  not  tell  you  what  this  sudden  development 
means  to  us — for  a  charming  and  brilliant  actress,  such  as  she 
proved  herself  to  be,  is  what  we  have  sought  and  we  can  now 
really  push  her  forward  without  the  slightest  fear.  I  speak 
absolutely  sincerely  and  without  favor  regarding  Miss  Cameron. 
Even  old  Clapp  gushed. 

I  am,  always,  always  yours  gratefully,  truly, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

His  engagement  at  the  Boston  Globe  was  closed 
on  November  1,  and  the  ensuing  five  weeks  were 


116  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

devoted  to  performances  in  Philadelphia,  Washing- 
ton, and  Baltimore.  I  had  advised  him  against  need- 
lessly antagonizing  rivals  in  the  professional  race, 
and  was  wishful,  in  particular,  to  promote  friendly 
relations  between  him  and  Jefferson,  Lawrence 
Barrett,  Augustin  Daly,  and  other  such  leaders, 
and  especially  desirous  that  he  should  not, — as 
eventually,  he  did, — by  rancorous  talk,  affront  and 
alienate  Henry  Irving.  I  knew  that  harmony  among 
those  chieftains,  all  of  whom  were  accustomed  to 
open  their  minds  very  freely  to  me,  relative  to  each 
other,  would  be  in  every  way  beneficial.  From 
Philadelphia  he  wrote: 


Continental  Hotel,  Philadelphia, 

November  7,   1889. 
My  Dear  Old  Fellow:— 

.  .  .  I  do  not  know  either  Mr.  Barrett  or  Mr.  Daly — I  have 
never  met  either — and  of  course  I  should  be  delighted  to  be 
friendly  with  them,  but  I  do  not  think  they  care  a  damn  about 

me.     I  have  met  once,  and  he  was  very  drunk  and 

very  friendly;  I  afterward  called  upon  him  when  he  was 
sober — ^but  he  refused  to  see  me;  I  think  he  is  a  very  intelli- 
gent person.      I   have  tried  for  many  years   to   make   a   friend 

(and  a  sincere  one)   of  P but  he  has  not  got  it  in  his 

nature  to  be  a  friend  to  any  man — and  he  has  always  played 
me  some  trick  for  my  pains — he  is  a  very  sly  and  untrust- 
worthy person.  I  treat  him  always  with  courtesy — but  I 
cannot  trust  him.  To  Irving  I  always, — my  thoughts  always, — 
turn  with  affection,  and  no  matter  what  he  might  do,  I  do 
not  think  my  affection  for  him  would  change.     I  cannot  explain 


BAD    BUSINESS  117 

this — unless  it  is  what  there  is  of  the  woman  in  my  nature. 
As  for  you — as  long  as  I  have  a  roof  over  my  head  it  is  for 
you  also,  and,  if  you  hadn't  a  son  I  should  ask  you  to  adopt 
a  fine  healthy  child  with  a  good  appetite  and  plenty  of 
animal  spirits ! 

The    Philadelphians   are   very    indifferent   and    don't   care   a 
damn  about  this  fine  presentation  of  Shakespeare's  tragedy. 

I  note  what  you   say   about  wearing  heavy   cloaks — I   quite 
understand. 

Where   can    I    get   a   copy    of   "The    Man   of   the   World".'' 

Always  all  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


Philadelphia,  Pa., 
November  18,  1889- 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Thank  you  for  your  last  kind  letter.  Things  here  are  not 
what  they  should  be — nor  do  I  ever  expect  them  to  be,  in 
Philadelphia.  There  is  not  and  never  will  be,  to  my  thinking, 
any  interest  in  Art  here — and  I  am  quite  sure  I  should  have 
done  better  with  "The  Rag  Baby"  or  "The  Tin  Soldier."  I 
shall  be  glad — glad — when  I  am  out  of  the  place.  We  are 
playing  to  about  $1,000  a  night  less  than  in  Boston.  I  begin 
to  think  I  can  bear  the  Boston  critics  but  not  the  Philadelphia 
houses ! 

I     am     greatly     obliged     to     you      for     introducing     "The 

—  "  to  my  notice.     Altho'  in  many  ways 

I  think  badly  written  and  capable  of  very  much  improvement, 
it  is  finely  conceived  and  appeals  strongly  to  me.  I  shall  do 
it,  and  that  very  shortly.  I  am  extending — and  that  at  once — 
my  repertory.  Your  old  idea  of  "Beau  Brummell"  is  being 
worked  out  now  by  me,  with  the  assistance  of  a  young  man 
named  "P'itch."     I  should  be  very  grateful  to  you,  old  fellow,  if 

you  will  write  a  preface  for  me  to  "The ,"  short 

and  pithy;  something  that   I   can  publish  in  the   programmes: 


118  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

who   and   what   and   how,   and   everything   about   him:    he   was 

contemporary  of  ,  was  he  not?     Or  am  I  an  ignorant 

brute?     Will  you  do  this  for  me?     Do  you  think  "The  

—  "   for  a  first  and   "Sir   Charles    Coldstream"    for   a 


second  piece  would  be  a  good  bill?  I  should  not  use  the  title 
"Used  Up,"  and  I  should  alter  somewhat  the  play  itself. 
Sir  Charles  is  a  capital  character;  the  question  is — would  it  be 
risque  for  me  to  do  it  now?  should  I  be  going  back?  Would 
it  be  bad  policy?  Then  too  as  I  am  to  do  Brummell  would 
the  characters  strike  you  as  in  any  way  alike?  What  do  you 
think  of  Young  Wilding,  in  "The  Liar."     Would  that  not  be 

better?     You  know  I  look  to  you  for  advice  always and  I 

am  sure  you  will  give  it. 

Our  business  in  N.  Y.  must  be  great  and,  please  God,  it  may 
be.  Would  you  advise  much  advance  advertising?  Washing- 
ton and  Baltimore  prospects  look  good, — and  it  seems  that  I 
am  to  be  feted  in  Washington:  how  different  from  this  place — 
where  I  am  treated  with  studied  indifference,  I  may  say  rude- 
ness. 

You  seemed  from  your  last  letter  to  have  dropped  back 
somewhat  into  melancholy — this  must  not  be:  you  were  so  well 
and  cheerful.  In  three  weeks  I  shall  be  with  you,  and  we 
iwill  have  high  times!  I  have  found  some  old  play-books  here 
for  you. 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


Rennert's  Hotel,  Baltimore, 

December  5,  1889. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

What  is  the  matter?  I  hope  you  are  not  offended  with  me 
about  "Beau  Brummell"?  I  won't  do  it  at  all  if  you  say  so — 
and  I  certainly  shall  not  do  it  without  your  approval. 

We  are  compelled  to  open  on  the  l6th,  with  "Richard" — a 
postponement  to  the  25th  would  cost  me  $4,000,  which  I  can- 


RICHARD    AGAIN  119 

not  afford.  I  have  also  thought  well  to  raise  my  prices  (in  the 
orchestra  seats)  to  $2.00.  Wallack's — or  rather,  Palmer's — 
holds  but  $1,200  when  quite  full,  so  it  would  not  pay  me,  with 
my  enormous  expenses.  My  success  or  failure  in  New  York 
will  mean  everything  to  my  future  and  the  direction  my  work 
will  take:  if  America  wants  a  new  actor — new  enterprise — new 
work,  and  a  man  who  will  spend  freely  all  that  is  given  to  him, 
they  may  encourage  me.  If  they  don't — I  shall  give  them 
comedy  and  keep  my  money  to  myself. 

I  shall  be  in  New  York  on  Sunday — and  I  am  looking  for- 
ward so  much  to  seeing  you  again — what  say  you  to  Monday 
evening.''     At  the  Croisic.'' — seven  o'clock? 

Always,  always,  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


On  December  16,  1889,  he  appeared  in  New  York, 
at  Palmer's  Theatre,  presenting  "Richard  III." 
Palmer's  Theatre  had  been  Wallack's  and  now,  1910, 
it  is  Wallack's  again.  His  engagement  there  lasted 
till  February  15.  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  was 
revived  on  January  20,  1890,  "Prince  Karl"  on 
January  27,  and  on  February  5  he  acted  Humphrey 
JLogan,  in  a  melodrama  called  "Master  and  Man." 
His  production  of  "Richard  III.",  manifestly,  was 
the  most  important  of  those  proceedings.  In  its 
fidelity  to  historic  fact  and  in  its  opulence  of  acces- 
sories and  magnificence  of  picture  that  production 
surpassed  all  previous  presentments  of  that  tragedy 
on  the  New  York  stage.  The  garniture  with  which 
the  play  was  invested, — the  paintings  and  the  dresses, 


120  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

— reflected,  not  literally  but  in  a  vein  of  delicate 
exaggeration,  suitable  to  a  work  of  art,  the  aspect 
and  condition  of  social  affairs  in  England,  in  the 
time  of  "the  unpopular  king."  As  a  spectacle  the 
presentment  was  a  triumph  of  archaeology.  Mans- 
field, though,  was  not  content  with  showing  only  a 
sumptuous  historic  pageant:  he  acted  Glo'ster  in  a 
vein  of  interesting  originality.  His  theory  as  to 
the  development  of  the  character,  whether  sound 
or  unsound,  was  thoughtful  and  it  stimulated 
thought.  His  method  lacked,  especially  at  first,  the 
tumultuous,  propulsive  expedition  which  is  requisite 
for  the  supremely  effective  acting  of  Richard,  but 
it  was  not  that  of  a  stage  parrot.  He  showed 
himself  to  be  an  actor  of  intellectual  contrivance  and 
startling  force,  and  he  impressed  veteran  observers 
with  a  deep  sense  of  formidable  personality  and 
admirable  art.  Among  others,  that  great  woman  and 
great  actress  Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert,  who  knew  all  the 
stage  traditions  of  the  part  and  remembered  all  the 
notable  assumptions  of  Richard^  from  the  time  of 
Forrest,  Brooke,  and  Davenport  to  that  of  Edwin 
Booth  and  Henry  Irving,  was  emphatic  in  her 
approval  of  his  performance,  an  approval  of  excep- 
tional value  and  significance.  He  did  not,  however, 
please  everybody.  That  well-known  remonstrant 
who  intends  to  ejaculate  "Louder!"  when  he  hears 


HIS    LETTERS  121 

the  trumpet  blast  of  the  angel  Gabriel  is  always 
present  in  a  theatrical  audience,  and  he  constantly 
writes  to,  or  for,  the  newspapers.  But  such  an 
actor  as  Mansfield  could  not  be  suppressed  by  the 
niggardly  intolerance  of  implacable  detraction. 
After  the  strangeness  had  ceased  to  be  strange,  and 
after  the  prattle  had  died  away,  his  acting  was 
judged  by  itself,  and  not  by  the  standard  of  con- 
ventionality, and  it  justified  itself  by  its  intrinsic 
worth. 

Letters  that  Mansfield  addressed  to  me,  from  time 
to  time,  in  the  course  of  this  engagement  at  Palmer's 
Theatre,  are  interesting,  since  they  show  the  activity 
of  his  mind  and  the  fluctuations  of  his  fortunes  and 
moods,  record  incidents  that  concern  his  welfare, 
and  give  piquant  denotements  of  his  character.  He 
had  been  pleased  with  remarks  of  mine  on  his  pro- 
duction of  "Richard  III."  He  had  resolved  on 
having  a  play  on  the  subject  of  "Don  Juan,"  and 
he  proposed  that  we  should  cooperate  in  writing  it: 
"When  we  produce  it,"  he  added,  "we  will  say  'Don 
Juan,  a  Comedy,  by  Deux  Autres,'  which  will  be 
capital."  He  had  considered  plays  based  on  Scott's 
novel  of  "Woodstock"  and  on  "Peter  Schlemihl." 
And  he  had  again  presented  "A  Doll's  House"  (once 
only,  December  20),  Miss  Cameron  giving  her 
ingenuous   performance   of  the   child-wife,   without 


122  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

arousing  public  interest.  The  necessity  of  turning 
from  Shakespeare  to  the  old  repertory  had  been 
urged  upon  his  attention,  and  because  of  monetary 
stringency,  he  deemed  it  expedient  to  associate  him- 
self with  INIr.  T.  Henry  French,  in  bringing  for- 
ward a  current  London  "sensation"  play.  "I  am 
going  to  tack  a  little,  and  do  a  melodrama,"  he 
wrote,  referring  to  "Master  and  Man,"  "but  I  will 
get  into  port  just  the  same.  It  is  a  little  dishearten- 
ing, sometimes,  that's  all."  His  book  of  songs, 
afterward  published  under  the  name  of  "One 
Evening,"  Hkewise  now  occupied  some  part  of  his 

attention. 

The  Croisic,  New  York, 

December  17,  1889. 
My  dear,  dear  Winter: — 

How  nobly — how  generously — how  greatly  you  have  written! 
I  do  not  think  words  can  ever  repay  you  and  I  am  afraid  / 
can  in  no  way  ever — unless  it  be  to  deserve  your  commenda- 
tion. How  well  and  beautifully  all  is  said  that  you  have  to 
say!  I  thank  you,  I  thank  you,  with  all  my  heart.  God  knows 
whether  the  people  will  come  to  see  us — but  if  they  do  not — 
at  least  your  writing  will  be  the  fine  monument  that  will  stand 
where  I  fell. — I  am  worn  out  to-day. 

Ever  your  true,  devoted,  and  obliged  friend, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  Croisic,  New  York, 

December  29,   1889. 
My  Dear  Old  Fellow:— 

It  seems  such  a  hollow  mockery, — when  we  had  no  Yule  log, 
no   Christmas   tree,  no   children   around   us,   no   dance,   nor  no 


Photograph  hij  Stereoscopic  Companij,  London 

"RICHARD  III." 
Mansfield  as   Glo'ster;  Beatrice  Cameron  as  Lady  Anne    (Act  I.) 


CHRISTMAS  123 

snap-dragon,  ifb  halls  full  of  merry  people, — to  wish  anybody 
a  jolly  Christmas,  that  I  refrained.  I  didn't  have  one  myself 
and  I  didn't  see  why  anybody  else  should  and  I  smarted  when- 
ever one  of  the  stage-hands,  with  a  significant  hand  in  his 
pocket  and  an  expectant  look  said:  "Merry  Christmas."  But 
don't  think  that  I  had  forgotten  you — only  when  one  plays 
Richard  the  Third  500  times  in  one  week,  one  hasn't  any  time 
even  for  one's  truest  friends! 

Damn  Ibsen!  Who  cares  for  Ibsen?  Only  I  would  wish, 
for  that  dear  sweet  girl's  sake,  her  heart  being  so  warped  to 
that  buoy,  that  it  had  not  been  entirely  dragged  away  from 
her.  I  know — I  feel,  how  she  looked  forward  to  a  success 
here;  I  think  her  whole  life  was  in  it;  too  much  so  and  it 
militated  somewhat  against  her  doing  herself  complete  justice. 
She  has  been  very  ill  ever  since  and  it  nearly  breaks  my  heart 
to  play  my  scenes  with  her  at  night. 

And  now  I  send  you  a  little  New  Year's  gift — tho'  I  fear 
you  will  not  perhaps  care  for  it:  an  old  battered  ring,  with 
my  father's  crest  upon  it.  I  wore  it  for  many  years,  and 
hammered  it  out  of  all  shape  trying  to  impress  people  with 
this  or  that — I  preferred  sending  it  to  you  as  it  is;  but  I  will 
have  it  made  round  and  smooth  again  for  you  if  you  wish. 
WiU  you  wear  it  for  my  sake,  dear  old  fellow,  who  have  done 
me  such  great  good.''  Ever  yours, 

R.  M. 


V. 

1890  TO  1892. 

The  votaries  of  art,  commonly,  are  possessed  of 
acute  sensibility, — fortunate  for  them,  in  the  main, 
because  without  it  they  could  accomplish  nothing, 
but  unfortunate  for  them  in  at  least  one  respect, 
because  it  makes  them  keenly  sensitive  to  criticism. 
The  actor  is  especially  sensitive,  and  naturally  so, 
because  the  exposition  of  his  art  involves  the  present- 
ment of  his  person,  and  that  condition  of  circum- 
stance inevitably  promotes  a  vigilant  egotism,  watch- 
ful of  praise  and  censure.  Mansfield,  devoured  by 
ambition  and  eagerly  anxious  to  please,  was  par- 
ticularly observant  of  remarks  in  newspapers,  and 
his  spirit  was  alternately  exalted  and  depressed  by 
them. 

January  9,  1890. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  have  read  your  article  in  "Harper's"  with  great  interest 
and  especially  have  I  recognized  the  truth  of  what  you  say 
regarding  my  appearance  in  unpleasant  characters  only — altho' 
you  do  forget  that  pleasant  characters  which  are  strong  char- 
acters are  very  scarce — and  the  "Prince  Karl"  and  "Monsieur" 
both  are  very  sweet.  However,  so  convinced  am  I  of  the 
truth  of  what  you  say  and  perhaps  somewhat  by  the  fact  that 

124 


IN    MEDIAS    RES  125 

"Richard  III."  is,  financially,  a  disastrous  failure,  that  I  have 
determined  to  bestow  upon  the  Public,  in  the  future,  the  small- 
est amount  of  artistic  labor  with  the  largest  possible  financial 
profit.  I  seek  now  only  a  pleasant  character  and  a  popular 
play,  and  I  shall  devote  myself  in  the  future  to  that  class  of 
work  which  distinguishes  the  Monkeys  of  the  Drama, — it 
amuses  the  audience  and  does  not  fatigue  the  player.  I  am 
a  sick,  tired  and  beggared  man  and  out  of  the  ashes  of  my 
aspirations  will  rise  a  mean,  sordid  ape. 
I  am,  always. 

Yours  very  truly, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  Croisic,  New  York, 
My  Dear  Winter:—  Sunday,  Jan.  19,  1890. 

I  am  in  medias  res  with  my  little  book  of  songs — I  think 
of  connecting  them  by  some  few  words  a  la  Boccaccio,  making 
the  whole  an  entertainment  and  calling  it  "In  the  Evening: 
being  an  entertainment  of  songs,  sketches,  suggestions,  and  bur- 
lesques, by  Richard  Mansfield,"  and  containing  the  following — 
each  to  be  illustrated  by  a  good  artist: 

A  suggestion  for  a  National  Air. 

A  Children's  Waltz. 

A  Song  Without  Words. 

"The  Broken  Harp"   (The  Poem  by  William  Winter). 

"The  Curfew"   (The  Poem  by  H.  W.  Longfellow). 

"The  sea  hath  its  pearls"  (The  Poem  by  Heine). 

"Star  of  my  heart." 

"And   love   me   still." 

"In  the  twilight." 

"Sad  is  my  heart." 

"Asleep"  (The  Poem  by  William  Winter). 

"Will  you  tell  me,  artless  maiden?" 

How  I  came  to  be  a  King:  A  Burlesque. 

An   English   Opera:   A    Burlesque. 


126  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

The  Marmoset  Monkey. 

"Good  Night  and  Good  Morning"  (The  Poem  by  Lord 
Houghton). 

"The  Silent  Pianist"   (being  a  sonata  played  in  silence). 

An  air  for  the  violoncello. 

Etc. 

I  do  not  know  how  to  set  about  publication — what  to  do?  I 
am  so  busy  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  go  down  town  to  Harper's 
— every  moment  of  my  day  is  occupied.  Can  you,  will  you, 
assist  me.''  Yours  ever, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  Croisic,  New  York, 
My  Dear  Winter: —  January  30,  1890. 

"Master  and  Man"  is  here  and  we  are  constantly  rehearsing. 

It   is   no   use   disguising   the    fact:    I    am   in   the   depths    of 

abject  misery — for  here   is  a  part  that   I   must  study  without 

bringing  to  it  the  first  symptom  of  interest  or  pleasure.     Three 

times  I  have  tried  to  break  off  my  arrangement  with  French — 

but  in  vain.     Destiny.     However,  it  may  make  so  much  money 

that  we  can  do  something  fine  finely,  shortly:  if  it  doesn't  make 

money,  nobody  will  be  gladder,  or  drop  it  in  a  greater  hurry, 

than  your  very  true,  your  ever  devoted  and  grateful  friend, 

T  -  .,        ,      ^  .        ,  Richard  Mansfield. 

1  have  gotten  the  Grippe ! 

The  melodrama  of  "Master  and  Man"  was  with- 
drawn after  a  run  of  two  weeks  and  Mansfield's 
engagement  at  Palmer's  Theatre  was  then  concluded. 
A  brief  tour  ensued,  with  "Richard  III."  and  the 
old  repertory.  One  letter  that  he  wrote,  in  the 
course  of  that  tour,  is  especially  expositive  of  his 
indomitable  resolution  to  achieve  great   renown: 


BRUMMELL  127 

Palmer  House,  Chicago, 

March  16,  1890. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

When  I  am  in  bad  luck  I  feel  so  like  shrinking  into  my  shell 
— I  always  feel  so  keenly  that  nobody  wants  to  know  me — that 
you  will  understand  why  I  have  been  cold  and  disagreeable  to 
you — my  best  of  friends.  Things  have  taken  a  turn  and  we  are 
playing  to  crowded  houses — for  which  I  thank  God!  I  am 
playing  nine  times  a  week,  and  if  I  can  only  keep  it  up  I 
shall  soon  be  myself  again.  Work  has  never  terrified  me — 
THAT  you  know — but  it  did  seem  as  if  the  good  God  had  quite 
forgotten  me — or  was  angry  with  me — so  bad  and  so  sad  have 
affairs  been  with  me  of  late.   .    .    . 

The  press  here  has  been  more  than  kind,  and  has  acclaimed 
me  far  beyond  my  deserts.  I  think  everything  is  possible  to  me, 
if  I  am  helped,  and  I  feel,  more  and  more,  that  the  future — ^the 
immediate  future — of  the  American  Stage  lies  very  much  in  my 
hands.  At  all  events,  I  intend  laying  violent  hands  on  it — 
coute  que  coute!  I  have  a  most  tempting  offer  to  go  to  Berlin; 
and  I  think  I  shall  accept — because  I  can  go  there  and  do 
great  things  "right  off,"  without  question — and  when  I've  done 
them  there  it  will  appear  natural  to  people  here  that  I  should 
do  them.  I  have  no  time  to  potter  backward  and  forward  here, 
at  the  whim  of  the  people.  Life  is  too  short  and  too  uncer- 
tain to  waste  it  in  doing  small  things.  I  am  about  to  produce 
a  play  called  "Edmund  Kean,"  in  Boston.  Just  to  try  it,  that's 
all.  I  have  two  weeks  at  the  Boston  Theatre,  and  need  a  play 
dealing  with  large  effects,  and  "Edmund  Kean"  turned  up  in  the 
nick  of  time.  "Lord  Dunmersey"  (if  I  do  it  at  all)  I  shall 
reserve  for  the  Madison  Square  engagement.  Next  week  St. 
Louis — the  Olympic,  where  I  play  four  plays  in  one  week, 
opening  in  "Richard  III."  Since  I  have  written  so  much  about 
myself — write   me  something   about  yourself. 

Always,  always,  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


128  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

On  May  5,  1890,  he  again  appeared  in  the  capital, 
beginning  an  engagement  at  the  Madison  Square 
Theatre,  with  "A  Parisian  Romance."  In  the 
meanwhile,  as  shown  by  letters  already  quoted,  he 
had  been  making  a  play  on  the  life  and  character 
of  Beau  Brummell.  The  design  of  a  comedy  of 
manners,  on  that  subject,  which  I  had  suggested  to 
him  long  before,  was  now,  after  a  fashion,  fulfilled, 
and  on  May  19  he  brought  forth  the  drama  with 
which  he  was  to  earn  much  money  and  largely  to 
augment  his  fame.  That  drama  lacks  substance, 
is  encumbered  with  triviahties,  and  is  disfigured  by 
caricature  of  manners  and  platitude  of  colloquy; 
but  it  is  embellished  with  striking  traits  of  char- 
acter and  with  amusing  equivoke,  it  provides  an 
affecting  contrast  of  prosperity  and  adversity,  and 
it  is  supplied  with  two  or  three  moderately  effective 
theatrical  situations,  such  as  the  experience  and 
ingenuity  of  an  actor  might  naturally  be  expected 
to  suggest.  It  proved  a  serv^iceable  vehicle  for  the 
display  of  Mansfield's  personality  and  accomplish- 
ments, and  his  acting  carried  it  to  success. 

The  story  of  the  origin  and  manufacture  of  the 
play  of  "Beau  Brummell"  is  singular  and  instructive. 
Early  in  1887  Mansfield  applied  to  me,  asking 
for  a  list  of  such  plays  as  I  might  con- 
sider   expedient    for    revival,    and,    in    reply    to 


A    SCENARIO  129 

his  request,  I  directed  his  attention  to  several 
old  comedies,  long  disused.  In  particular,  I 
mentioned  the  comedy  of  "Beau  Nash,"  by  Douglas 
Jerrold,  and  I  sent  to  him  a  copy  of  it,  to  read.  That 
play  contains  the  well-drawn  character  of  Richard 
Nash  J  "the  Tiberius  of  a  silk  stocking"  and  "by  the 
grace  of  impudence.  King  of  Bath," — in  his  day  a 
remarkable  man,  of  whom  there  is  a  biography 
attributed  to  no  less  an  author  than  Oliver  Gold- 
smith,— and  also  it  contains  an  amusing  story, 
comic  incidents,  good  equivoke,  and  various 
pungent  examples  of  the  caustic  pleasantry 
for  which  Jerrold  was  distinguished.  Mans- 
field read  "Beau  Nash,"  and,  although  he  decided 
that  it  was  not  practicable  for  his  use,  he  derived 
from  it  the  idea  of  acting  a  Beau, — an  idea  which  had 
not  previously  occurred  to  him.  When  next  we  met 
the  subject  was  discussed,  and  I  then  suggested  to 
him  that  incidents  in  the  Ufe  of  another  beau,  the 
celebrated  Beau  Brummell,  might  be  utilized  in  a 
dramatic  form.  I  particularly  specified  a  passage 
in  Captain  Jesse's  elaborate  memoir  of  Brummell,  in 
which  there  is  a  suggestive  record  of  Brummell's  re- 
ception of  phantom  guests,  when  he  was  a  demented, 
impoverished  exile,  at  Caen,  in  France,  and  I  said 
that  it  could  be  expanded  into  a  dramatic  and  pathetic 
closing  scene.    JNIansfield  expressed  cordial  approba- 


130  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

tion  of  the  subject  and  of  the  scheme,  and  earnestly- 
requested  that  I  would  write  a  play  for  him,  with 
Brummell  as  the  hero  of  it.  I  did  not  promise  to 
comply  with  his  request,  but  said  I  would  consider  it, 
and,  a  few  days  later,  I  sent  to  liim,  in  writing,  the 
plan  of  a  drama. 

The  scene  was  to  be  laid  partly  at  Oatlands,  near 
Weybridge,  in  beautiful  Surrey  (Oatlands  being  a 
mansion  that  was  once  a  palace  and  now  is  an  hotel) , 
partly  in  London,  and  partly  at  Caen.  Brummell  was 
to  be  represented  as  a  noble  person,  irreproachable  in 
character,  magnanimous  in  spirit,  stately  and  elegant 
in  manners,  and  the  fable  was  to  be  suited  to  the  man. 
Brummell  was  to  intervene  in  an  affair  of  gallantry, 
and,  under  romantic  circumstances,  to  rescue  a  beau- 
tiful girl  from  the  persecution  of  his  friend  the  wanton 
Prince  of  Wales,  afterward  King  George  the  Fourth, 
and  in  that  way  to  incur  the  enmity  of  that  royal 
profhgate.  Then  he  was  to  become  enamoured  of  the 
girl,  and,  upon  his  impassioned  solicitation,  she  was 
to  give  him  a  promise  of  marriage,  dictated  by  her 
grateful  sense  of  obligation.  Later  he  was  to  ascer- 
tain, by  chance,  that,  secretly,  her  affections  were 
fixed  upon  a  handsome  and  accomplished  but  im- 
pecunious young  man,  and  thereupon  he  was  to  make 
the  welfare  and  happiness  of  the  girl  and  her  lover 
the  chief  object  of  his  solicitous,  practical,  paternal 


PLAN    APPROVED  131 

care.  He  was,  incidentally,  to  rescue  the  youth  from 
the  peril  of  the  gaming  table, — a  device  which  would 
have  permitted  a  sparkling  representative  scene  at 
Watier's,  Brookes's,  or  White's  (it  is  recorded  that 
once  Brummell  actually  did  thus  befriend  a  lad)  ; 
then  to  provide  a  competence  for  him ;  and  then,  with 
firm,  stoical  abnegation  of  self,  to  procure  the 
betrothal  of  the  young  lovers:  finally,  having  inci- 
dentally encompassed  his  own  financial  ruin,  he  was 
to  go  to  Caen,  in  France,  there,  in  penury,  to  endure 
the  pangs  of  want ;  there,  at  a  phantom  feast,  to  wel- 
come the  phantom  shapes  of  noble  lords  and  ladies, 
the  companions  of  his  better  days;  and  there  to 
expire,  after  ha\dng  been  found  by  his  old  friends. 
Upon  that  plan  I  believed  that  a  practicable  play 
could  be  written.  I  was  not  then  aware  that  the 
authentic  incident  of  Brummell's  insane  reception  of 
imaginary  visitors  had  been  used  in  a  play,  but  long 
afterward  I  read  a  two-act  piece  by  Blanchard  Jer- 
rold, — a  trivial  fabric,  of  no  practical  use, — in  which 
the  incident  of  the  phantom  guests  is  employed. 

Mansfield,  pleased  with  my  plan,  reiterated  his 
request  that  I  would  write  the  play,  but,  being  bur- 
dened with  other  tasks  and  duties,  I  declined  to  under- 
take that  labor,  and  so  for  a  while  the  project  slept. 
It  had,  however,  taken  firm  root  in  his  mind,  and, 
ultimately,  he  determined  to  write  the  play  liimself, — 


132  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

which  he  was  well  qualified  to  do;  but,  as  he  was 
acting,  he  would  not  devote  himself  to  a  literary 
pursuit,  and  presently  he  employed  Mr.  W.  C. 
Fitch,  who  had  been  commended  to  his  attention 
by  his  friend  Edward  A.  Dithmar,  the  esteemed 
journalist,  at  one  time  dramatic  editor  of  "The  New 
York  Times,"  and,  changing  my  plan,  without 
improving  it  (a  plan  which  liis  assistant,  meanwhile, 
read),  Mansfield  fashioned  the  play  of  "Beau  Brum- 
mell,"  dictating  to  that  assistant  the  greater  part  of 
the  colloquy  contained  in  it,  but  allowing  Mr.  Fitch 
to  write  dialogues  from  notes  and  from  memory  of 
his  talk.  That  statement  was  made  to  me,  by  the 
actor,  in  explanation,  with  marked  emphasis,  over  and 
over  again,  in  speaking  and  in  writing,  and  upon 
Mansfield's  authority  I  repeat  it  here:  he  said,  also, 
that  the  play  was  composed  mostly  at  the  Continental 
Hotel,  Philadelpliia.  Some  of  the  more  piquant 
lines  in  the  dialogue  in  "Beau  Brummell"  were 
taken  from  Captain  Jesse's  biography;  others  were 
taken  from  earlier  plays;  others  were  supplied  by 
Mansfield,  who  had  a  particularly  happy  knack 
of  odd  witticism.  One  colloquy  was  "conveyed" 
from  Peacock's  "Nightmare  Abbey," — a  book  that 
I  once  mentioned  to  Mansfield  as  among  the  most 
quaint  compositions  in  our  language.  The  plan 
of  choosing  Brummell  as  the  subject  of  a  drama 


GEORGE  BRUMMELL,  THE  FAMOUS  BEAU,  IX    YOUTH 

From   an   Old  Pr'nit 


LIKE    SHEEP  133 

and  the  plan  of  idealizing  his  character  were  mine, 
and  so  was  a  general  scheme  for  the  conduct  of 
the  plot.  Mansfield  and  his  amanuensis  possessed 
my  original  written  outline  of  story,  together  with 
the  substance  of  many  hints  and  suggestions  made 
to  the  actor,  in  conversation  and  in  various  letters, 
upon  which  to  build,  and  it  was,  and  is,  my  opinion, 
that  they  might  have  built  upon  that  basis  with 
better  judgment  and  better  taste.  Brummell,  in 
actual  Hfe,  was  a  voluptuary.  For  the  purposes  of 
a  drama  it  was  imperative  that  he  should  be  rehabiU- 
tated.  That  I  had  prescribed,  and  that  was  done. 
Mansfield's  acting,  even  in  a  caricature  of  manners 
and  circumstances,  made  him  a  magnanimous  gentle- 
man, and  invested  him  with  a  romantic  and  pathetic 
charm,  while  the  long-continued  success  of  the  play, — 
in  which,  while  Mansfield  lived  to  present  it,  Brummell 
was  always  an  attractive  figure, — made  Mr.  Fitch, 
who  contributed  to  it  scarcely  anything  except  clerical 
labor,  a  prosperous  dramatist.  There  came  a  time, 
so  Mansfield  told  me,  when  that  writer  had  so 
thoroughly  convinced  himself  that  he  was  the 
"creator"  of  "Beau  Brummell,"  that,  in  INIansfield's 
presence,  and  in  that  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W. 
H.  Kendal,  he  gravely  informed  his  auditors 
that,  originally,  he  had  intended  the  play  for 
Henry   Irving!     It   should  be   mentioned,  also,    as 


134  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

one  more  of  many  examples  of  the  sheep-like  char- 
acter of  most  actors,  that  as  soon  as  Mansfield  had 
made  a  hit  with  Beau  Brummell,  a  crop  of  Beaus 
sprung  up,  all  over  the  stage.  H.  Beerbolim-Tree, 
in  particular,  brought  forth,  November  3,  1890, 
at  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  London,  a  play 
called  "Beau  Austin,"  by  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 
and  W.  E.  Henley;  and  even  Blanchard  Jerrold's 
thin  play  was  revived.  Letters  from  Mansfield 
substantiate  this  account  of  the  origin  and  composi- 
tion of  the  drama  of  "Beau  Brummell."  The  state- 
ments here  made,  on  this  subject,  were  widely  pub- 
lished during  the  Hfetime  of  Mr.  Fitch,  and  they 
were  not,  and  could  not  be,  successfully  disputed, 
either  by  him  or  by  any  other  person.  Mr.  Fitch 
died,  at  Chalons-sur-Marne,  France,  on  September 
4,  1909.  He  was  a  man  of  talent  and  he  wrote 
several  serviceable  plays,  but  he  was  not  the  author 
of  the  play  of  "Beau  Brummell." 

The  opinion  of  the  actor  on  this  subject  is  inti- 
mated in  the  following  letter,  written  twelve  days 
after  the  first  performance  of  the  play,  when  the 
success  of  the  production  had  been  confirmed  by 
continued  good  attendance  and  a  generally  favorable 
press,  and  when  it  seemed  hkely  that  his  present- 
ment of  the  Dandy  was  destined  to  have  a  long 
career; 


TESTIMONY  135 

The  Croisic,  New  York, 

May  31,   1890. 
My   Dear   Winter: — 

You  are  quite  right — only  too  right  in  what  you  say  about 
Fitch — and  he  has  not  even  had  the  grace  to  thank.  If  he  is 
capable — fortune  is  now  within  his  grasp.  But  he  has  acknowl- 
edged to  no  one  his  indebtedness  to  me  or  to  you.  Of  course  I 
can  say  nothing. 

I  am  so  glad — so  very  glad  you  liked  the  sketch  in  Harper's 
— praise   from  you  is  praise  indeed. 

Indeed  I  have  thought  of  your  poem — it  is  always  on  the 
music  rack  on  the  piano,  and  I  will  play  over  to  you  what  I 
have  attempted,  when  we  meet — which  pray  let  be  soon. 

Thank  God  there  is  no  truth  in  the  paragraphs  about 
Beatrice!  She  is  much  better  and  getting  stronger.  She 
injured  her  health  in  playing  that  accursed  Ibsen,  and  in  the 
many  years  of  constant  hard  work  and  travelling.  She  is  in 
Berne. 

Send  me  word  when  to  expect  you, — so  that  I  may  be  quite 
free.  Always  yours  all, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


The  time  came  when  Mansfield,  because  of  a 
vituperative  attack  upon  him,  relative  to  the  author- 
ship of  "Beau  Brummell,"  felt  at  liberty  to  make 
a  public  statement  on  that  subject,  and  did  make 
it, — in  the  form  of  a  letter,  published,  on  April  15, 
1891,  in  which  he  said: 

Boston,  April  13,  1891. 
...   I  owe  it,  perhaps,  to  Mr.  William  Winter,  in  the  face 
of  Mr.  C.  Fitch's  letter  to  "The  Boston  Evening  Transcript," 
to  say  that  Mr.  Winter's  statements  are  absolutely  correct. 


136  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

"_?Mr.  Fitch's  letter  to  "The  Transcript"  is  a  disfiguration  of 
facts.  Mr.  Fitch  was  engaged  by  me  to  write  the  play  of 
"Beau  Brummell/'  and  I  promised  to  use  his  name  as  author. 
He  would  still  be  figuring  as  such  but  for  his  own  folly  and 
ingratitude. 

/     Mr.    Fitch    did    not    write    "Beau    Brummell" — except    with 
^  his  pen. 

.    .    .    Mr.  Fitch  has  only  to  be  asked  these  questions: 
Did  you   invent  the  plot?     Did   you   invent   any   single   situ- 
ation.''    Did  you  invent  or  create  any  one  character?     Did  you 
have  any   single   original   idea   for   any  one   of  the   characters? 
.'  Did  you  even  give  names  to  the  characters?     Did  you  invent 
i  the    climax    of    any    act    or    scene?       Did    you    invent     any 
i  bit  of  business?     How  many  of  the  speeches  now  spoken  are 
i  yours? 

i        Mr.   Fitch's  position  has  been  a  preposterous   one.     His  in- 

j     gratitude   has    been   amazing.     One   sample    alone   suffices:    Mr. 

*    Fitch  carried  my  play  and  my  property  with  him  to  London, 

and  read  it  to  Mr.  Beerbohm-Tree — who,  thereupon,  produced 

"Beau  Austin." 

Your  obedient  servant, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  Brummell  season  at  the  Madison  Square 
Theatre  in  1890  lasted  from  May  19  till  October  25. 
"Beau  Brummell"  was  acted  150  consecutive  times, 
and  was  then  taken  on  a  tour  of  other  cities,  Mans- 
field's impersonation  of  the  Dandy  being  every- 
where received  with  favor.  He  was  not,  however, 
contented;  he  wished  for  something  new,  and  he 
again  took  up  the  subject  of  "Don  Juan,"  renewing 
his  request  that  I  would  cooperate  with  him  in 
writing  a  play  upon  that   old  story.      With  that 


A   PHANTOM    CABAL  137 

request  I  did  not  comply,  and  it  may  as  well  here 
be  said  that  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  tragedy 
of  "Don  Juan,"  as  it  was  finally  fashioned,  except 
to  admire  it  and  to  recognize  and  celebrate  its  merit. 
At  this  time  he  first  thought  of  assuming  the  cares 
of  managing  a  theatre  in  New  York,  and,  inci- 
dentally, he  conjured  up  one  of  those  bug-bears  of 
professional  antagonism  with  which,  throughout  hfe, 
his  fancy  was  too  readily  oppressed: 

Leland  Hotel,  Chicago, 

December  8,   1890. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Your  delightful  book — your  charming  essay  in  Harper's — 
both  received,  and  I  thank  you  for  remembering  me — I  hope 
you  are  not  working  too  hard.  Could  you  not  leave  for  a  little 
holiday,  and  spend  next  week  with  me  here,  in  Chicago,  and  do 
some  work  on  "Don  Juan"?  I  have  written  out  the  first  act 
roughly,  and  it  is  ready  for  you.  But  the  play  needs  thorough 
discussion.  Also  we  must  talk  over  plans  for  the  future — 
and  everything  for  which  I  like  to  come  to  you  for  guidance. 
Pray  come  if  you  can — and  I  am  sure  it  will  do  you  good. 

...   I  am  aware  of  a  cabal   (with  ghoul  at  its  head) 

to  keep  me  from  the  throne  I  am  striving  for — in  this  cabal  are 
Palmer,  Frohman,  Daly,  Barrett,  and  Booth — the  latter  may 
be  innocently.  Their  object  is  to  establish  an  English  actor 
named  Willard,  in  New  York — but  I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me 
see  what  particular  good  he  is  likely  to  do  anybody;  his  coad- 
jutor is  Hatton.  These  people  are  all  after  dollars — that 
is  the  alpha  and  omega  of  their  ambition   and  their  existence. 

I  may  take  a  trip  to  California,  but  I  shall  be  in  New  York 
shortly,  for  I  play  in  Brooklyn  and  at  Hammerstein's  in 
February.      In   October   I    shall   open   my   new   theatre.      You 


138  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

have  always  been  my  best  friend — I  have  leant  upon  you 
largely  for  advice  in  the  past — I  want  to  know  if  you  will  be 
heart  and  soul  with  me  in  the  future?  I  shall  never  do  any- 
thing to  disgrace  you,  but  I  must  say  I  need  your  earnest,  your 
true  support.     I  cannot  work  all  alone,  and  I  am  all  alone. 

Do  come  on  here  if  you  can  possibly  manage  it,  and  we  will 
talk   of    everything.     What   about    Christmas?     Where    do   you 
spend  it?     Bring  the  boy,  and  spend  it  with  me? 
God  bless  you,  old  fellow. 

And  believe  me. 

Always    yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

j|(  The  English  actor,  Edward  S.  Willard,  to  whom 
such  ungracious  reference  is  made  in  the  above 
letter,  made  his  first  appearance  in  America  on 
November  10,  1890,  at  Palmer's  Theatre,  in  Henry 
Arthur  Jones's  excellent  play  of  "The  Middleman," 
and,  in  the  character  of  Cyrus  Blenkarrij  gave  one 
of  the  noblest  impersonations  that  have  ever,  in 
our  time,  been  set  before  the  pubHc.  There  was 
no  occasion  for  Mansfield,  or  any  other  self-respect- 
ing actor,  to  be  troubled  on  this  subject,  for  the 
success  of  such  an  actor  as  Mr.  Willard,  which  then 
and  later  was  decisive  and  abundant,  could  only 
result  in  dignifying  the  stage  and  intensifjang  the 
public  interest  in  it, — a  consequence  manifestly 
advantageous  to  all  its  votaries. 

Early   in    1891    Mansfield   again   acted   in   New 
York,    tliis    time    at    the    Garden    Theatre.       The 


"A   DOLL'S    HOUSE  "  139 

engagement  was  a  short  one,  beginning  on  January 
5  and  ending  on  January  31,  and  it  was  devoted 
to  "Beau  Brummell"  and  to  an  improved  version 
of  "Prince  Karl."  An  afternoon  performance  of 
Ibsen's  play  of  "A  Doll's  House"  was,  incidentally, 
given,  and  Miss  Cameron  repeated  her  good  per- 
sonation of  Nora.  The  play  of  "A  Doll's  House,'* 
which,  apparently,  was  written  for  the  sapient  pur- 
pose of  declaring  that  a  wife  should  be  her  husband's 
companion  and  friend  and  not  his  plaything,  is 
mawkish  and  tedious,  but  Miss  Cameron  infused 
a  winning  personality  into  the  part  of  Nora,  and 
commended  a  dull  theme  to  acceptance  by  her 
piquant  and  sustained  vivacity,  her  occasional  intima- 
tions of  sentiment  and  of  maternal  feeling,  and,  in 
the  moment  of  the  hysterical  dance  (the  only  dra- 
matic passage  in  the  play),  her  truthful  simulation 
of  artificial  glee  conflicting  with  genuine  terror. 
Letters  which  follow  refer  to  that  incident  and 
also  to  a  musical  experiment  that  Mansfield  made, 
in  Washington,  to  which  city  he  repaired,  beginning 
another  tour,  as  soon  as  his  New  York  engage- 
ment had  closed. 

February  7,  1891. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Thank  you — thank  you — thank  you,  for  your  great  kindness 
to  me;  you  are  always  the  same  true  friend.     And  thank  you 


140  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

for  your  encouragement  of  Beatrice — she  has  talked  of  nothing 
else  since.  How  great  to  be  able  to  bestow  so  much  happiness ! 
Next  Thursday  afternoon  there  is  to  be  given  at  Albaugh's 
Theatre,  Washington,  a  Concert  of  Songs,  Grave  and  Gay, 
written  by  myself.  Two  songs  of  yours  will  be  sung  and  a  new 
National  Air  dedicated  to  the  People  of  this  Country  is  to  be 
sung  by  a  boys'  choir  and  played  by  a  full  orchestra.  It  will 
be  an  interesting  event,  I  think.  I  hope  for  the  President  and 
his  wife — all  the  Foreign  Ministers — Congress  and  Society — 
will  you  come,  my  dear  friend,  and  be  my  guest, — come  on 
Thursday.  The  songs  of  yours  will  be  "Asleep"  and  "The 
Broken  Harp."  I  shall  say  in  the  programme  "the  poem  by 
William  Winter."  I  dislike  "the  words."  Say  you  will  come. 
It  will  be  delightful. 

Ever  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  concert  in  Washington,  devised  partly  to 
please  himself  and  partly  as  an  expert  scheme  for 
attracting  a  more  considerable  pubhc  attention, 
duly  occm'red,  was  attended  by  a  fine  audience,  and 
gave  much  pleasure.  As  usual,  I  could  not  accept 
Mansfield's  invitation  to  be  present,  and  therefore, 
as  on  many  similar  occasions,  incurred  his  censure, 
— for  he  was  always  particularly  resentful  upon 
the  declination  of  any  proffered  hospitality.  Later 
he  described  the  performance: 

Buffalo,  New  York, 

February  20,  1891. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

My  little  Concert  amusement  cost  $1,000,  and  the  songs  were 
so  wretchedly  sung  that  I  left  the  house.     The  effect  upon  the 


"ONE    EVENING"  141 

people,  however,  seems  to  have  been  quite  at  odds  with  mine  own 
feelings  in  the  matter,  and  everybody  was  loud  in  praise,  and 
the  audience  remained  calling  for  me  for  fully  fifteen  minutes. 
The  man  who  sang  "Asleep"  murdered  sleep — and  the  woman 
who  sang  "The  Broken  Harp"  (it  should  have  been  sung  by  a 
man),  had  no  heart.  But  you  cannot  give  these  people  their 
feelings  at  $50.00  a  song,  and  I  could  not  afiford  a  Scalchi  or  a 
Patti  or  a  Santley.  There  you  are:  in  future  I'll  sing  them 
myself — voice  or  no  voice !  However,  your  songs  were  very 
much  admired  and  vous  voila !  I  am  over  head  and  ears  in 
work.  Pray  are  you  doing  anything  on  "Don  Juan" — I  may 
need  it  first;  in  fact  if  I  can  only  get  it  ready;  if  I  only  have 
the  time,  I  think  it  is  a  safer  venture  than  '  The  Man  Without  a 
Shadow,"  which  in  any  case  would  only  go  for  a  very  few 
weeks — }  Let  me  know  what  you  think.''  If  you  would  dis- 
patch the  First  Act  to  me — but  no;  I  shall  be  in  New  York 
Holy  Week,  March  23,  and  that  will  be  time  enough,  or  in 
Philadelphia,  March  9th. 

God  bless  you,  old  fellow!     I  am. 

Quite  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


Friends  of  his  have  reason  to  remember  that,  on 
many  a  festal  night,  in  later  times  of  happy  com- 
panionship, he  sang  those  songs,  for  which  he 
had  written  such  lovely  music,  and,  commingling 
frolic  with  feeling,  caused  the  hours  to  pass  swiftly, 
— for  he  sang  with  deep  feeling  as  well  as  consum- 
mate skill,  and  when  in  a  genial  mood  his  companion- 
ship was  delightful.  The  programme  of  that  concert 
was  the  basis  of  his  book,  called  "One  Evening," 
to  wliich  he  refers  in  the  following  letter: 


142  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

Colonnade  Hotel,  Philadelphia, 

March  5,  1891. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

All  your  kind  letters  rec'd.  I  am  compelled  to  finish  "Don 
Juan,"  in  case  the  other  and  lighter  plays  should  not  be  ready. 
I  intend  to  print  "Don  Juan"  and  before  doing  so  I  want 
you  to  correct  my  English,  and  make  suggestions.  I  shall  be 
in  New  York  Holy  Week — do  try  to  keep  it  open  for  me — I 
must  see  a  great  deal  of  you.  If  there  is  a  hotel  at  Tompkins- 
ville,  near  you,  I  think  I  will  come  and  stay  there  for  a  day, 
near  you,  if  I  may,  and  we  can  talk  over  everything  .    .    . 

I  like  the  weird  story  you  sent  me — but  to  make  a  success- 
ful play  I  am  leaving  out  as  much  as  ever  possible  of  any  such 
element.  For  the  Third  Act  I  am  stealing  the  situation  with 
the  Duchess  de  Guise  in  "Henry  III."  (Dumas). 

"Don  Juan"  will  be  a  strong  play — a  new  play.  I  shall  not 
open  with  it,  if  I  can  help  it.  If  "The  Man  Without  a  Shadow" 
proves  too  thin — and  it  looks  that  way  now — I  am  thinking 
(but  'tis  to  be  kept  secret  at  present)  of  a  dramatisation  of 
Rudyard  Kipling's  "The  Light  That  Failed,"  a  most  sweet, 
pathetic  story.    .    .    . 

My  little  book  I  can  give  no  thought  to  at  present — I  am  so 
hard  worked  that  I  have  not  been  in  the  fresh  air  for  five 
days  now.  I  have  left  my  rooms  only  to  go  to  the  Theatre. 
In  the  summer  months  I  shall  have  ample  leisure  to  bring  it 
out.  .    .    . 

I  should  particularly  like  it  to  be  understood  that  the 
Garden  Theatre  is  now  my  house  of  production,  as  Daly's  or 
Palmer's  by  arrangement  with  Mr.  French,  that  my  company 
is  a  stock-company,  not  a  merely  supporting  organization,  and 
that  we  only  leave  the  Garden  Theatre  for  a  short  time  as 
all  stock  companies  do.  I  occupy  the  Garden  Theatre  until 
my  own  house  uptown  is  completed. 

Ever    gratefully    your    friend, 

Richard  Mansfield,  y 


THE    STOCK-COMPANY  143 

This  idea  of  a  "house  of  production"  and  a 
"stock-company"  was,  undeniably,  judicious,  but  the 
suggestion  of  it  by  Mansfield,  though  absolutely  sin- 
cere, could  only  be  viewed  as  a  pleasing  fancy.  His 
theory  was  correct.  Every  theatre  should  be  man- 
aged by  an  actor,  or  else  by  a  person  possessing 
the  actor's  temperament,  and  in  every  theatre  there 
should  be  a  good  stock-company.  But  Mansfield 
could  not  have  conducted  a  stock-company,  nor 
could  he  have  long  remained  associated  with  one, — 
for  he  lacked  both  tact  and  patience.  No  actor  has 
appeared,  in  our  time,  who  more  decisively  exem- 
phfied  the  peculiar  theory  of  democracy  so  con- 
cisely stated  by  King  Louis,  in  the  play:  "All  sub- 
jects!— all  subjects;  except  me!"  In  that  respect, 
though,  he  was  not  entirely  singular. 

Colonnade  Hotel,  Philadelphia, 

March   16,   1891. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  have  decided  to  open  at  the  Garden  on  May  18th  with 
a  transcription  of  Rudyard  Kipling's  "The  Light  That  Failed." 
I  had  nothing  to  do  with  this  transcription — it  has  been  done 
entirely  by  Miss  Cameron  and  Miss  Sprague.  /  have  been  too 
busy  with  "Don  Juan" — in  whom  I  am  very  much  interested. 
I  will  read  to  you  what  I  have  written.  As  "Don  Juan" 
would  need  much  costuming,  and  is  a  work  of  some  importance 
(so  I  venture  to  think),  I  do  not  wish  to  do  it  at  this  season — 
but  to  wait  until  the  fall.  I  hope  "The  Light  That  Failed" 
will  prove  successful — I  shall  play  Dick:  Miss  Cameron 
Maisie:  Ferguson   Torphenotv.     Have  you  read  the  book.''     It 


144  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

is  a  clever  and  touching  story  and  I  think  taken  from  real  life — 
indeed,  I  believe  I  know  the  people. 

With  all  affection. 

Ever  yours, 

Richard. 


His  fancy  for  plays  about  "The  Man  Without 
a  Shadow"  and  "The  Light  That  Failed"  was  soon 
discarded.  The  wish  for  novel  subjects,  though, 
was  continuously  present  in  his  mind,  and  many 
themes  for  plays,  and  sometimes  new  plays  them- 
selves, were  considered,  temporarily  approved,  and 
then  rejected  by  him.  At  this  time  he  had  nearly 
decided  to  produce  a  play  called  "The  Great  House 
of  Vanbrough,"  appearing  in  it  as  a  typical  old 
New  York  merchant,  and  at  another  time  his 
preference  inclined  toward  a  play  called  "Gentleman 
Waiffe,"  based  on  Bulwer-Lytton's  novel  "What 
Will  He  Do  With  It?"  He  also  thought  of  act- 
ing Cardinal  Mazarin  and  Dean  Swift, 

It  was  surprising  that  Mansfield  did  not,  at  this 
period  of  his  career,  lose  heart  and  utterly  break 
down.  He  was  oppressed  with  a  huge  burden 
of  debt;  he  had  been  disappointed,  to  a  grievous 
extent,  by  the  public  neglect  of  liis  costly  revival 
of  "Richard  HI.";  he  was  acting  eight  times  a 
week;  he  was  diligently  occupied  in  the  writing 
of  his  play  of  "Don  Juan"    (and  much   annoyed 


VARIED    ACTIVITIES  145 

because  I  would  not  favorably  respond  to  his  fre- 
quent requests  for  assistance  in  that  task)  ;  he  was 
acutely  anxious  about  the  unfinished  tragedy  of 
"Nero,"  and  was  urging  his  friend  Mr.  Sulhvan 
to  complete  that  work;  he  was  studying  the  part 
of  Dickj  in  a  play  about  Mr.  Kipling's  story  of 
"The  Light  That  Failed";  and  frequently  he  was 
the  object  of  harsh  disparagement  in  newspapers, — 
an  injustice  which,  naturally,  prompted  resentment 
and  the  disposition  to  "strike  back."  It  was  no 
wonder  that  he  suffered,  that  he  was  often  ill, 
and  that  his  temper  was  exasperated.  One  speci- 
men of  the  abuse  that  followed  him  is  here  quoted, 
because  its  pubhcation  was  the  cause  of  the  explicit 
disclosure,  already  cited,  of  some  of  the  truth  relative 
to  the  authorship  of  "Beau  Brummell": 

...  I  suppose  that  Mansfield  will  devote  all  his  time  to 
"Beau  Brummell,"  in  which  Boston  people  will  take  great 
interest,  as,  in  a  way,  they  claim  its  author.  Besides  that, 
many  people  here  heard  "Beau  Brummell"  read  before  Mans- 
field's manager  read  it.  They  will  be  interested  to  see  how 
much  truth  there  was  in  that  nasty  little  report  which  was 
circulated  in  New  York  to  the  effect  that  Mansfield  wrote 
much  of  that  piece.  I  never  heard  much  about  Mansfield's 
cleverness  with  his  tongue,  though  it  is  notorious  that  he  can 
use  it  with  effect  when  he  is  angry.  However,  it  is  not  a 
part  of  his  reputation — cleverness  of  speech.  If  he  has 
tampered  with  the  play,  unless  he  has  changed  his  humor, 
he  should  have  written  something  in  that  would  have  enabled 
him  to  show  his  shapely  figure,  of  which  he  used  to  be  very 


146  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

proud.  At  least  one  must  infer  it  from  the  fact  that  a  few  years 
ago,  when  a  writer  was  at  work  on  a  play  for  him,  he  stipulated 
that  the  end  of  the  act  should  be  so  arranged  that  he  could 
come  on  in  his  bathing  dress.  .  .  .  — From  "The  Boston  Home 
Journal,"  March  28,  1891. 

The  spiteful  tone  of  that  contemptible  paragraph, 
commingling  falsehood  with  meanness  and  malice, 
aptly  exemplifies  the  insolence  and  mendacity  with 
which,  for  some  years,  Mansfield  was  assailed  in 
a  section  of  the  American  press.  The  idea  of 
"Beau  Brummell"  had  been  suggested  to  him  early 
in  1887,  and  the  first  written  document  on  that 
subject  is  dated  November  26,  of  that  year, — 
long  before  Mr.  Fitch  had  ever  met  Mansfield  or 
ever  heard  of  "Beau  Brummell."  Reference  to  the 
"contract"  (reproduced  elsewhere  in  this  memoir), 
which,  in  his  indiscreet,  heedless  amiabihty,  Mans- 
field gave  to  Mr.  Fitch,  will  discover  that  it  was 
dated  November  11,  1889. 

Brooklyn,   N.   Y., 

April  4,  1891. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  enclose,  of  course,  the  clipping  from  the  (Boston)  "Home 
Journal,"  and  I  am  looking  forward  with  fiendish  delight  to 
your  answer — (and  which  it  is  like  your  kindness  and  gen- 
erosity toward  me,  always,  to  write).  You  will  certainly  burst 
the  frog!  The  paragraph  about  my  desire  to  appear  in  a 
bathing-suit  is  extraordinary!  I  never  discussed  a  play  with 
anybody  in  Boston  but  T.  Russell  Sullivan  and  I  am,  I  think. 


A    LITERARY    FEAT  147 

the  very  last  man  to  desire  to  appear  in  a  bathing-suit. 
Heaven  forfend!  It's  bad  enough  at  Narragansett !  But  this 
discloses  the  fact  that  the  author  of  the  paragraph  at  one 
time  or  another  probably  sent  me  a  play  which  was 
declined.    .    .    . 

You  have  no  conception  how  greatly  your  visit  yesterday  has 
cheered  and  encouraged  me — of  how  much  good  you  have  done 
me ! — and  what  result  your  words  will  have  on  my  future ! 
You  are  my  dearest  and  best  friend,  and  I  hope  I  may  never 
in  my  life  be  forgetful  of  your  kindness! 

Ever  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

Before  the  end  of  April  the  tragedy  of  "Don 
Juan"  was  finished  by  Mansfield,  while  in  Boston, 
where,  this  time,  he  prospered,  and  the  completion 
of  his  task  seemed  to  set  him  up  in  hope. 

The  Brunswick,  Boston, 

April  22,  1891. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

The  play  is  finished — I  sat  at  it  all  day  yesterday,  Sunday — 
from  nine  in  the  morning  until  six  and  completed  the  last  act. 
I  locked  myself  in  and  remained  without  food — Beatrice  came 
then  to  hear  me  read  it  to  her  and  I  broke  down  and  became 
hysterical.  I  think  I  shall  never  attempt  any  such  task  again. 
Please  God  it  may  be  a  success.  Beyond  altering  the  close 
of  the  Second  Act  and  rehearsals,  study  and  the  playing  of  it, 
nothing  now  remains  to  be  done.   .    .    . 

"Don  Juan"  ends  sadly — it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to 
close  the  work  otherwise,  and  death  dignifies  the  whole.  I 
have  given  him  a  touch  of  Ophelia  (in  one  of  the  wanderijigs 
of  his  mind  I  have  stolen  a  description  from  your  lovely  book) 
— what  a  sweet  beautiful  book  it  is — I  hope  we  may  both  be 
spared   to   take    those    rambles    together.     I    cannot   write    this 


148  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

morning — my  head  buzzes — my  hand  trembles — there  is  a  dis- 
sipation in  work  as  in  pleasure.  My  writing  of  "Don  Juan" 
will  be  bitterly  attacked — I  see  that  articles  are  being  spat 
out  concerning  the  relations  of  author  and  actor,  and  the 
actor  is  being  told  that  he  thinks  a  great  deal  too  much  of 
himself.  He  always  did — poor  Devil!  he  never  could  get 
anybody  else  to  think  about  him  at  all.  Come  on,  and  let 
us  sit  and  abuse  this  very  pretty  world,  for  the  people  that 
are  in  it.     Come  on!  Yours  ever, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  "Home  Journal,"  "The  Saturday  Evening  Gazette" 
(Wolff)  attack  me  with  much  and  bitter  venom.  We  have, 
however,  so  far,  played  to  very  fine  houses. 


The  dramatic  critic  of  the  "Gazette"  at  that  time, 
was  Benjamin  E.  Wolff,  since  deceased, — a  man  of 
exceptional  talent,  rigorous  in  judgment  and  often 
severe  in  censure.  He  was  also  a  dramatist,  and 
he  is  remembered  as  the  author  of  "The  Mighty 
Dollar,"  in  which  play  that  excellent  actor,  the  late 
William  James  Florence,  gave  so  much  pleasure 
and  gained  so  much  popularity,  as  Hon.  Bardwell 
Slote.  His  criticism  of  Mansfield,  probably,  did 
no  harm.  "Paper  pellets"  do  not  injure  any  man 
who  is  using  such  talent  as  he  possesses,  in  an  honor- 
able manner,  for  the  good  of  others  as  well  as  of 
himself,  but  it  was  ever  difficult  to  persuade  him 
to  disregard  them,  although,  in  later  years,  he 
avoided,  to  some  extent,  the  reading  of  newspapers. 


COUNSEL  149 

New  Brighton,  Staten  Island, 

April  23,  1891. 
Dear   Richard: — 

I  am  delighted  to  hear  that  your  play  of  "Don  Juan"  is 
finished.  Your  decision  to  end  it  with  death  is,  unquestionably, 
wise.  There  could  be  no  other  artistic  close.  I  think  there 
ought  to  be  a  slight,  vague,  evanescent  tone  of  omen, — perhaps 
in  an  occasional  strain  of  music, — all  the  way  through  the  piece. 

I  regret  you  have  been  made  ill.  Be  very  careful  of  your 
health.  Don't  read  newspapers,  and  don't  write  any  more  let- 
ters or  allow  any  interviews.    .    .    . 

Do  not  mind  the  words  that  are  written  against  you.  It  is 
only  fruit-trees  that  are  stoned, — as  the  wise  Spanish  proverb 
says.  Read  your  "Don  Quixote"  and  be  happy.  I  have  every 
confidence  in  the  success  of  Juan.  I  wish  I  could  read  it  before 
you  produce  it:  but  I  cannot  come  to  Boston.  I  cannot  leave 
my  work.     I  am  surrounded  with  difficulties.     We  all  are! 

Do  you  begin  at  the  Garden  Theatre  with  "Don  Juan".''  and 
on  what  date.'' 

I  am  glad  you  like  my  "Gray  Days,"  and  I  wish  we  could 
ramble  together  in  that  lovely  land. 

Always  truly  yours, 

William  Winter. 


The  Albion,  Baltimore, 

„     _  April  29,  1891. 

My  Dear  Winter: — 

...  I  return  to  town  next  week.  I  shall  produce  "Don 
Juan"  either  May  18  or  May  25.  We  may  not  be  ready 
before  the  latter  date.  I  find  the  Second  Act  needs  re-writing 
in  part,  and  it  worries  me.  However  it  has  to  be  done — please 
God  it  may  be  a  success,  so  that  I  may  rest  a  little — I  am 
almost  tired  out.    .    .    . 

I  hear  that  "Frederick  Lemaitre"  was  a  mass  of  rubbish 
founded  upon  a  good  little  story  taken  from  a  French  news* 


150  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

paper.  The  language,  I  hear,  is  empty  persiflage — and  that 
is  all  that  young  man  can  do;  he  is  a  windbag.  .  .  .  He  has 
gone  to  Europe  to  produce  "all  his  plays"! 

The  beautiful  weather  sets  me  a-longing  for  the  country.  I 
am  ever  cooped  up  within  doors.  I  never  see  the  trees  and 
the  flowers  in  the  country  (unless  thro'  a  railroad  carriage 
window).  I  am  weary,  weary.  Pray  come  to  town  as  soon 
as  I  get  back — I  need  you.  I  am  disgruntled  and  I  have  one 
of  my  "throw  everything  away"  moods  upon  me. 

Yours  ever, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


Early  in  May  he  once  more  appeared  in  the 
capital,  beginning,  at  the  Garden  Theatre,  with 
"Beau  Brummell."  On  May  18  he  presented 
"Don  Juan,"  for  the  first  time  on  any  stage,  and 
he  acted  the  hero  of  it  with  consummate  skill, 
splendid  vigor,  and  touching  effect.  The  occasion 
was  one  of  uncommon  interest.  The  audience  was 
large  and  not  only  genial  but  enthusiastic  in  its 
denotements  of  approbation.  The  verdict  of  the 
metropolitan  press,  on  the  next  day,  was,  with 
some  exception,  favorable.  Yet  the  play  immedi- 
ately languished,  and,  after  a  few  neglected  repre- 
sentations, it  was  withdrawn.  My  first  impression 
of  it,  which,  after  careful  reading  of  the  piece 
(it  was  pubHshed  in  November,  1891),  remains 
unchanged,  was  expressed  to  Mansfield  in  the  fol- 
lowing note: 


A   RUEFUL   AUTHOR  151 

After  the  Play,  May  18,  1891,-3  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the   IQth. 
Dear  Old  Friend: — 

I  have  only  time  to  write  a  word.  It  should  be  one  of 
congratulation  to  you,  on  your  brilliant  success.  You  have 
made  out  of  the  old  story  of  "Don  Juan"  a  beautiful  play, 
— in  which  there  is  no  blemish.  And  your  performance  is  full 
of    loveliness    and    thought.     I    have    begun    the    making   of    a 

version  of  for  you,  but  you  won't  want  to  do  it  for  a 

long  time  yet.     Make  the  most  of  your  success  and  bt^ppiness. 
God  bless  you! 

Faithfully  yours, 

William  Winter. 
R.  M. 

On  this  note, — wliich,  with  others  used  in  this 
biography,  was  returned  to  me  by  Mrs.  Mansfield, 
after  her  husband's  death, — the  rueful  author  had 
written,  with  pencil,  these  words: 

"This  play  was  an  awful  failure:  not  a  soul 
came  to  see  it!       ?" 

"Don  Juan"  deserved  a  better  fate,  since  it  is  a 
novel  and  interesting  play.  Instead  of  helping 
him  to  pay  his  debts,  however,  it  served  only  to 
retard  him  in  that  business, — to  which,  meanwhile, 
he  had  been  giving  diligent  attention.  When  with- 
drawn, it  was  succeeded  by  revivals  of  the  well- 
worn  plays  of  Iiis  old  repertory,  on  which  he  could 
still  depend. 

On  March  26,  1891,  Mansfield  and  his  company 
had  come  to  Staten  Island  and  given  a  perform- 


152  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

ance  at  the  theatre  of  the  German  Club,  at  Staple- 
ton,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Arthur  Winter  Memorial 
Library,  in  the  Staten  Island  Academy,  appear- 
ing in  "Prince  Karl."  This  was  an  unasked, 
but  gratefully  appreciated,  act  of  kindness, — ^that 
Library  having  been  founded  to  commemorate  a 
deceased  member  of  my  family,  and  being  an 
object  of  my  solicitous  care.  One  of  the  comedian's 
auditors,  at  the  representation  of  "Prince  Karl," 
was  the  eminent  orator  and  writer,  George  William 
Curtis,  who,  speaking  to  me,  after  the  performance 
had  ended,  aptly  designated  Mansfield's  embodi- 
ment of  the  whimsical  Prince  as  "the  perfection  of 
fooling,"  and  warmly  extolled  the  vigor,  the  sus- 
tained vivacity,  and  the  fine  finish  with  which  the 
part  had  been  acted.  Mr.  Curtis  also  lauded  the 
performance,  in  one  of  his  peculiarly  graceful  Easy 
Chair  papers,  in  "Harper's  Magazine."  That  com- 
mendation became  known  to  Mansfield,  and  natu- 
rally, it  gave  him  pleasure  to  be  praised  by  one  of 
the  most  accompHshed  men  of  our  time. 

The  Croisic,  New  York, 

May  28,   1891. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I   was   honored   and   delighted   with   the   kind   and   generous 

words   of   Mr.    Curtis,   and    I   take   the   liberty    of   enclosing    a 

note  to  him,  which  perhaps  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  forward? 

"Don  Juan"  is  much  improved  I  think — in  appearance  cer- 


"AT 


NERO"  153 

tainly  and  I  hope  you  will  think  so.  I  have  been  bitterly 
and  cruelly  attacked — so  much  so  that  for  some  days  I  trod 
the  stage  with  almost  shame.  The  hesitation  and  doubt  of 
myself  has  not  passed  away.  Ethel  and  Beatrice  have  been 
very  good  to  me  and  constantly  tell  me  all  manner  of  flattering 
lies  to  keep  up  my  courage  and  self-esteem — so  needful  to  the 
miserable  play-actor.  Something  else  should  be  put  in  rehearsal 
at  once — for  we  cannot  afford  to  lose  any  money:  $167;,000  is 
enough  in  any  one  man's  lifetime,  and  the  wolves  who  are 
howling  for  my  blood  should  know  that. 

I   am  thinking  of  a   Dickensonian  character:  you  once   sug- 
gested that:  what  say  you  now.''    Will  you  come  and  talk  it  over? 

Yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  spring  season  of  1891  was  extended  into  the 
summer,  when  the  tireless  actor  allowed  himself  to 
pause, — but  not  for  long.  Early  in  the  autumn  he 
reappeared.  The  next  new  production  that  he 
effected  was  that  of  "Nero,"  the  tragic  play  which 
his  friend  Sullivan  had  for  some  time  been  occupied 
in  composing,  under  his  counsel  and  urgency,  and 
which  was  performed,  for  the  first  time  on  any  stage, 
at  the  Garden  Theatre,  New  York,  September  21, — 
winning  some  critical  favor,  but  failing  to  win  the 
necessary  practical  support  of  public  approbation. 
It  happened  to  me  to  be  abroad,  for  a  while,  in 
that  year,  and  our  interchange  of  letters  became 
less  frequent.  He  failed  not,  however,  to  write  to 
me  about  "Nero,"  and  in  one  letter  he  sent  glad 
tidings  of  the  most  fortunate  event  of  his  experience. 


154  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

September  4,  1891. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  can  only  send  you  one  hasty  word  of  thanks  for  your  kind, 
beautiful  letter.  I  am  in  all  the  turmoil  of  preparation  for 
the  production  of  "The  Tragedy  of  Nero/'  and  it  is  with 
serious  concern  that  I  learn  of  your  postponed  return  to  this 
country.  It  seems  to  me  that  America  becomes  more  and 
more  a  province  of  England,  and  that  everything  that  is  good 
and  beautiful  here  seems  to  yearn  to  live  there.  I  do,  and 
I  am  both  good  and  beautiful!  "Nero"  will  be  played  Septem- 
ber 21  and  is  a  Tragedy,  pur  et  simple,  and  the  people  will 
probably  damn  it. 

I  announce  to  you  my  engagement — or  the  engagement  to 
me  of — of  sweet  and  beautiful  Beatrice.  We  shall  be  married 
in  England  next  summer  and  I  trust  I  may  prevail  upon  you 
to  accompany  us.     Beatrice  has  refused  me  seven  times  seven. 

Ever  your  friend, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

In  your  wanderings  see  what  you  can  find  for  me,  in  the 
shape  of  some  lovely  spot  by  the  sea-coast  where  we  may  dwell 
in  peace?     You  know  what  I  like. 

In  his  domestic  life  Mansfield  was  peculiarly 
fortunate.  On  September  15,  1892,  while  acting 
at  Daly's  Theatre,  he  wedded  the  actress  known 
on  the  stage  as  Beatrice  Cameron, — ^in  private  life 
Miss  Susan  Hegeman.  The  marriage  occurred  at 
the  Church  of  the  Redeemer,  Eighty-second  Street, 
in  New  York.  With  that  companion, — an  affec- 
tionate, devoted  wife,  appreciative  of  his  virtues, 
sympathetic  with  his  ambition,  careful  of  his  health, 
tolerant  of  his  idiosyncrasy,  helpful  in  his  labor, 
and  provident  in  his  interest,  he  passed  the  remainder 


Photograph  lij  KutUl 


BEATRICE  CAMERON 
{Mrs.   Mansfield) 


MARRIAGE  155 

of  his  days,  in  as  much  happiness  as  it  was  possible 
for  his  restless  spirit  to  know.  Without  his  wife's 
counsel,  comfort,  and  guidance,  indeed,  Mansfield, 
probably,  would  have  become  even  a  more  bitter 
cynic  than  the  Alceste  whom  he  represented  so  well, 
and,  almost  certainly,  he  would  have  worn  himself  out 
much  sooner  than  he  did,  by  injudicious  ventures 
and  by  hopeless  warfare  with  the  world.  They  had 
one  child,  a  son,  born  August  3,  1898,  named  George 
Gibbs, — the  name  of  George  having  been  given  to 
him  in  compliment  to  the  daughter  of  one  of  their 
intimate  friends. 

Soon  after  the  marriage  Mansfield  wrote  to  me, 
November  8,  1892: 

".  .  .  You  are  right.  Beatrice  and  I  are, — at  least  /  am, 
with  her, — completely  happy.  She  is  more  beautiful  every  day. 
She  is  completely  and  absolutely  good.  I  can  find  (and  I  am  a 
severe  critic)  in  her  not  one  fault.  She  is  the  soul  of  goodness, 
and  appears  to  possess  every  virtue.  I  am  lost  in  wonderment 
that  any  being  can  be  so.   ..." 

Another  glimpse  of  the  gentle  spirit  of  his  Beatrice 
is  here  afforded: 

Pla7a  Hotel,  New  York, 
My  Dear  Winter: —  November  7,   1891- 

We  go  to  Boston  on  Sunday  by  the  11  o'clock  train  from  the 
Grand  Central,  and  I  stay  at  the  Copley  Square  Hotel  (a  new 
house). 

Poor  Beatrice  went  to  Troy  on  Wednesday — to  the  bedside 
of  her  dying  brother  Byram.     The  enclosed  telegram  tells  its 


156  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

own  sad  tale.  Byram  Hegeman  was  only  sixteen  years  old,  and 
Beatrice  was  deeply  attached  to  him.  She  had  sent  him  to 
school  and  had  taken  all  the  cares  of  his  education  upon  her- 
self. He  seems  to  have  been  beyond  others  bright  and  gentle 
and  affectionate.  She  took  great  pride  in  him.  It  is  a  terrible 
blow — an  incomprehensible  ordaining.  It  seems  that  those 
beautiful  words,  "Es  ist  bestimmt  in  Gotte's  Rath" — it  is 
ordained  by  God's  decree  that  those  who  love  must  parted  be — 
are  true. 

I  feel  the  blow  for  Beatrice's  sake  almost  as  keenly  as  she 
must — and  I  fear  she  is  almost  heart-broken.  I  would  you 
were  with  her.  I  can  write  no  more  just  now.   .    .    . 

Ever  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

As  he  had  prognosticated  the  doom  of  "Nero," — 
namely,  that,  being  a  tragedy,  it  would  be  damned, 
— he  might,  perhaps,  have  been  expected  to  meet 
the  catastrophe  with  some  degree  of  philosophic 
composure,  but  he  had  built  a  golden  hope  upon 
that  play,  and  the  ill-fortune  which  it  encountered 
greatly  annoyed  him.  His  impatience  was  freely 
expressed;  sometimes  in  a  way  to  exacerbate  already 
existent  newspaper  animosities.  In  the  winter  sea- 
son of  1891-'92,  he  made  a  tour,  using  the  old 
plays,  but,  privately  inciting  and  assisting  the  com- 
position of  new  ones.  The  subjects  upon  which  his 
choice  then  fell  were  Samuel  Warren's  fantastic 
novel  of  "Ten  Thousand  a  Year"  and  Hawthorne's 
solemn,  pathetic,  heart-rending  romance  of  "The 
Scarlet  Letter." 


Plwtograph   by  Path  Bros..   \riv  Yorl; 

MANSFIELD  AND  HIS  SON  GEORGE  GIBBS  MANSFIELD 


VI. 

1892. 

Early  in  1892  Mansfield's  book  of  music  called 
"One  Evening"  was  published.  It  contains  fourteen 
compositions,  alternately  serious  and  humorous;  it 
provides,  in  the  hands  of  a  competent  performer,  a 
complete  entertainment  for  a  miscellaneous  audience, 
and  it  is  particularly  felicitous  in  playful  satire  of 
musical  conventionalities.  Some  of  its  melodies, 
suggestive  of  the  style  of  Dr.  Arne,  are  delicious 
in  their  tenderness  of  feehng  and  their  simplicity. 
The  characteristics  of  the  work  are  refinement, 
piquancy,  vigor,  and  grace,  and  it  is  strikingly 
indicative  of  poetic  fancy  and  versatile  faculty  of 
expression. 

The  first  theatrical  novelty  that  he  furnished  to 
the  public  in  that  season  was  the  drama  of  "Ten 
Thousand  a  Year,"  written  for  him,  at  his  sugges- 
tion and  under  his  advisement,  by  Miss  Emma  V. 
Sheridan. 

On  board  Private  Car,  "Pilgrim/' 
My  dear  Winter: —  February  6,  1892. 

....  I  am  going  away  now,  for  a  week  only,  and  then 
return  to   the   Garden    Theatre — an   engagement    I    dread,   not 

157 


158  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

only  because   I   seem  to   arouse  the  animosity  of  most  of  the 

writers    on   the    N.    Y.    dailies,    but    on    account   of   ,    who 

dislikes  me  as  much  as  I  despise  and  abhor  him.  He  is  a  low 
brute — lower,  I  think,  than  any  animal  our  natural  histories 
have  made  us  acquainted  with! 

This  coming  week  I  go  to  Troy,  Norwich,  Hartford,  and  for 
three  nights  to  Providence.  Owing  to  the  bad  hotels  and  the 
much  work  I  have  on  my  hands  I  shall  live  on  the  car.   .    .    . 

I  should  like  you  to  go  with  us  to  San  Francisco.  We  start 
April  11,  from  New  York.  I  shall  have  my  own  car,  and  a 
good  cook;  we  shall  have  a  bath,  piano,  etc.,  all  the  comforts 
of  home — and  I  have  thought  you  might  write  an  amusing  book, 
of  the  trip — a  book  written  in  a  whimsical  vein — remarks  by 
the  way;  of  our  adventures,  of  all  that  befalls  us;  about  people 
and  places.  We  should  both  have  odd  fancies  and  ideas. 
What  do  you  say? 

Regarding  "Ten  Thousand  a  Year,"  I  fear  it's  not  much  in 
your  vein;  altho'  I  do  not  know  why — it's  quaint  and  comical, 
and  with  a  touch  of  pathos,  born  of  Tittlebat's  true  love  for 
Terese  Tagrag,  the  daughter  of  his  former  employer.  Tessy 
will  be  played  by  Beatrice,  of  course.  I  can't  send  you  the 
play  to  read,  for  it's  all  in  shreds  and  patches,  like  a  quilt. 
But  I  return,  February  15,  to  New  York,  and  surely  you  can 
find  one  hour,  after  the  play,  for  me?  My  first  week  at  the 
Garden  I  shall  devote  to  repertory — Wednesday  "The  Weather- 
vane,"  my  new  name  for  "Don  Juan,"  since  the  old  one  fright- 
ened the  ladies. 

God  bless  you,  dear  old  fellow;  I  wish  I  saw  more  of  you — 
what  a  demnition  grind  it  is ! 

Yours  always, 

Richard  M. 

On  February  15,  1892,  he  appeared  at  the  Gar- 
den Theatre,  as  Beau  Brummell,  and  on  immediately 
succeeding  nights  he  acted  Prince  Karl,  Don  Juan 


"TEN    THOUSAND    A   YEAR"       159 

(then  called  by  the  new  name  of  "The  Weather- 
vane"),  Chevrial,  and  Jekyll  and  Hyde.  A  special 
rehearsal  of  "Ten  Thousand  a  Year"  was,  I  remem- 
ber, attended  by  his  admiring  friend  Col.  E.  A. 
Buck, — one  of  the  best  of  good  fellows, — and  by  me ; 
and  because  neither  of  us  expressed  enthusiastic 
approval  of  the  play,  Mansfield,  on  the  eve  of  pro- 
duction, resentfully  remarking  "You  can  pick  even 
'Othello'  to  pieces,  if  you  choose  to  make  fun  of  it," 
dejectedly  declared  that  he  would  discard  his  new 
piece.  The  venture  had,  in  a  financial  way,  been 
made;  the  play  was  ready,  the  opening  had  been 
announced,  and  it  was  essential,  having  gone  so 
far,  to  go  on  to  the  end.  Yet  Mansfield,  impulsive 
and  mercurial,  could  with  difficulty  be  reassured  and 
persuaded  to  give  the  performance.  The  cause  of  his 
doubt  was  that,  although  interested  in  the  character 
of  Tittlebat^  he  knew,  from  the  beginning,  that  it 
was  useless  for  the  stage,  and  he  found  his  secret 
judgment  ratified.  His  performance  was  a  capital 
exposition  of  the  technical  art  of  acting,  but  it  won 
no  public  support.  The  play  was  presented  on 
February  23,  and  it  had  a  career  of  three  weeks. 
The  rest  of  the  engagement,  which  lasted  till  April  9, 
was  devoted  to  repetitions  of  old  parts.  Twice  he 
reverted  to  "Titmouse,"  but  the  play  was  always  a 
disappointment  to  him. 


160  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

4  West  28th  Street, 

New  York,  March  11,  1892. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

.  .  .  "Ten  Thousand  a  Year"  was  put  on  a  week  too  soon, 
and  it  is  no  doubt  great  rubbish,  but  it  was  the  only  thing 
that  offered — there  was  absolutely  nothing  else,  and  to  have 
attempted  a  tragedy  would  have  meant  a  great  financial  loss. 
Heaven  only  knows  what  we  are  drifting  to — nobody  writes 
plays,  and  everybody  but  you  discourages  sincere  and  ambitious 
effort — it  is  quite  enough  for  me  to  announce  a  new  play  for 
the  hornets  to  gather.  I  shall,  probably,  have  to  give  up  any 
attempt  in  this  city.  I  should  like  to  consult  with  you — can 
you  find  time  to  come  to  my  new  ranch?  .  .  . 
Always  your  grateful  friend, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

It  was  made  known  to  me,  at  this  time,  that 
Augustin  Daly  (1838-1899),— long  the  foremost 
of  American  dramatic  managers,  as  he  continued  to 
be  till  his  death, — ^had  thought  of  forming  a  com- 
bination that  would  directly  compete,  in  serious 
drama  and  in  tragedy,  with  the  powerful  alliance  of 
Henry  Irving  and  Ellen  Terry.  No  motive  is 
more  conducive  to  excellence  in  the  dramatic  art 
than  that  of  ambitious  emulation,  and  as  soon  as 
Daly  spoke  to  me  on  this  subject,  wliich  he  did  very 
earnestly,  my  sympathy  was  enlisted.  His  purpose, 
not  positively  defined  but  clearly  indicated,  was  to 
present  Miss  Ada  Rehan  in  more  massive  characters 
than  any  that  she  had  yet  assumed,  and  he  discussed 
with  me  the  expediency  of  her  appearance  as  Queen 


ALLIANCE  161 

Margaret,  in  "Henry  VI."  and  "Richard  III.,"  as 
Lady  Macbeth,  and  as  Cleopatra,  in  sumptuous 
revivals  of  Shakespearean  tragedy.  An  imperative 
prehminary  to  the  accompHshment  of  such  a  pur- 
pose was  the  engagement  of  an  actor  of  proved 
abihty  in  tragic  parts,  and  of  commanding  reputa- 
tion. It  seemed  to  me  that,  beyond  question,  Mans- 
field was  the  actor,  but  I  doubted  if  he  was  the 
man.  His  pecuharities  and  those  of  Daly  were 
known  to  me.  With  Mansfield,  always,  where  Mac- 
gregor  sat  was  the  head  of  the  table.  Daly,  one 
of  the  greatest  of  stage-managers,  was,  neverthe- 
less, prone  to  over-scrupulous  interference  with 
his  actors,  in  matters  alike  of  ideal  and  execu- 
tion. Nevertheless  I  ventured  to  suggest  to  Mans- 
field the  idea  of  a  professional  union  with  Daly. 
He  seemed  much  pleased,  at  first,  declaring  that 
such  an  association,  if  practicable,  might  relieve  him 
from  the  cares  of  management,  of  wliich  he  was 
very  weary,  and  at  the  same  time  open  a  wide  field 
of  artistic  opportunity.  He  had  not  then  acted 
Shylock,  and  he  especially  remarked  on  the  possi- 
bility of  appearing  in  that  character,  with  Ada 
Rehan  as  Portia.  After  considerable  meditation  on 
the  subject, — for  he  was  a  little  hesitant  about 
maldng  an  overture, — JNIansfield  wrote  to  me  as 
follows : 


162  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

4  West  28tli  Street, 

New  York,  March  13,  1892. 
My  dear  Winter: — 

...  I  now  wish  to  ask  you  if  you  would  see  Mr.  Daly  for 
me.  I  am  greatly  hampered  for  want  of  a  theatre  and  at  the 
same  time  I  fear  to  load  myself  with  its  responsibilities,  when 
I  have  already  so  much  on  my  hands.  It  occurs  to  me  that 
the  following  arrangement  could  be  made: 

That  Mr.  Daly  should  divide  his  seasons  equally  between 
Miss  Rehan  and  myself:  i.e.,  that  he  should  produce,  for  a  part 
of  the  season,  plays  in  which  Miss  Rehan  would  be  prominent, 
and  that  she  should  then  (greatly  to  Mr.  Daly's  advantage) 
visit  the  principal  cities, — when  I  would  come  in  and  produce, 
in  conjunction  with  and  under  Mr.  Daly's  management,  such 
plays  as  we  might  mutually  agree  upon  and  devise.  I  think 
in  this  way  great  plays  could  be  done  at  Mr.  Daly's  Theatre. 
We  could  go  into  all  the  arcliaeology  of  the  things,  and  we  could 
paint  and  dress  our  plays  as  they  have  never  been  dressed  and 
painted  before.  I  should  be  associated  with  a  man  who  is 
certainly  sincere  in  his  devotion  to  the  Arts. 

Of  course  Miss  Cameron  would  be  with  me  as  my  principal 
support — but,  outside  of  that,  Mr.  Daly's  forces  would  assist 
me: — i.e.,  Mr.  Daly  would  have  a  sufficiently  large  army  to 
support  both  ]\Iiss  Rehan  and  myself,  and  he  would  be  able 
to  change  them  about  in  accordance  with  the  exigencies  of  the 
plays  produced.  I  draw  very  large  houses  in  the  country,  and 
I  would,  of  course,  give  Mr.  Daly  a  handsome  percentage  of 
my  earnings  out  of  the  metropolis. 

If  such  an  arrangement  as  I  propose  could  be  effected  with 
Mr.  Daly  I  should  be,  of  course,  under  Mr.  Daly's  management 
and  we  could  always  play  to  advanced  prices  in  the  country, 
and  I  think  Mr.  Daly  would  be  master  of  the  two  most  power- 
ful organizations  in  America. 

What  do  you  say.''  Will  you,  as  a  mutual  friend,  submit  to 
Mr.  Daly  this  project.'' 


DALY  163 

When  shall  I  see  you?     With  all  good  greetings 
Truly  always  your  grateful  friend 

Richard  Mansfield. 

N.  B. — I  may  add  that  I  am  urged  to  this  combination  with 
Mr.  Daly  very  largely  by  the  fact  that  upon  every  side  new 
Theatres,  managed  by  speculators  only,  are  springing  up,  and 
that  Mr.  Daly  is  the  only  man  in  this  country  who  seems  to 
have  the  interests  of  art  at  heart,  and  that  I  must  stand  shoulder 
to  shoulder  with  the  older  man. 

In  submitting  that  letter  to  the  attention  of 
Daly  I  suggested  that  it  might  prove  feasible  to 
form  an  alliance  with  Mansfield  for  a  term  of 
years  and  to  begin  with  a  splendid  production  of 
"The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  and  supplement  that 
with  a  magnificent  revival  of  "Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra." But,  with  my  private  opinion  of  what 
was  hkely  to  happen  when  Mansfield  came  upon 
Daly's  stage  to  rehearse,  and  Daly  began  to  direct, 
I  asked  the  latter:  "Do  you  think  that  you  and 
Mansfield  can  work  together  in  harmony?"  "Oh, 
yes,"  he  repHed;  "I  shall  have  one  grand  row,  at 
first,  as  I  did  with  Fechter,  and  after  that  there  will 
be  no  trouble.  It  has  always  been  so."  Knowing 
both  men  exceedingly  well  I  could  not  take  that  rosy 
view  of  the  probable  event.  Mansfield,  however, 
was  apprized  that  Daly  wished  to  confer  with  him, 
and  during  two  or  three  months  negotiations  were 
pending  between  them. 


164  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

4  West  28th  Street,  N.  Y. 

March   23,    1892. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for  your  kindness  in  speaking 
to  Mr.  Daly  for  me,  and  I  should  much  like  to  meet  him.  But 
any  arrangement  which  would  leave  out  Miss  Cameron  would, 
of  course,  be  impossible,  in  view  of  our  approaching  alliance. 

I  am  anxious  to  see  Lord  Tennyson's  play,  and  I  hope  to  be 
able  to  do  so.  I  fear  Englishmen  will  take  a  poor  view  of 
Americans,  and  their  reception  of  Lord  Tennyson's  work,  from 
"The  Herald,"  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  more  read  in  Eng- 
land, and  more  quoted,  than  any  other  journal  from  here, — 
and  it  is  to  be  deeply  regretted  that  such  an  incompetent  and 
conceited  and  brutal  numskull  should  be  allowed  to  write  as  he 
does  of  the  noble  work  ]\Ir.  Daly  has  so  beautifully  and  gener- 
ously produced.   .    .    . 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

The  play,  by  Tennyson,  to  which  this  letter 
alludes,  is  "The  Foresters,"  which  was  produced  at 
Daly's  Theatre,  New  York,  March  18,  1892,  and 
was  performed  there,  much  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
public,  till  the  afternoon  of  April  23, — the  season 
closing  that  night,  with  "As  You  Like  It."  In 
"The  Foresters"  Ada  Rehan  acted  Marian,  and 
gave  a  beautiful  performance.  That  play  was 
originally  written  for  Henry  Irving,  who  suggested 
to  Tennyson  the  introduction  of  the  Fairies,  and 
had  intended  to  act  the  gallant  and  generous  outlaw, 
Robin  Hood,  wliile  Ellen  Terry  would  have  assumed 
the   character   of   Marian:   but,   ultimately,    Irving 


HIS    CLUB    ROOM  165 

did  not  find  the  drama  practicable  for  liis  use.  Later 
it  was  obtained  by  Daly,  who,  with  the  author's 
reluctant  consent,  made  changes  in  it, — transposing 
an  act  and  providing  ingenious  and  beautiful 
pageantry,  with  lovely  music,  by  Sir  Arthur  SulU- 
van, — and  successfully  produced  it. 

Various  obstacles  prevented  an  immediate  meeting 
between  Daly  and  JNIansfield,  though  both  were 
wishful  that  it  should  occur.  Meanwliile  the  actor 
wrote  as  follows: 

4  West  28th  Street, 

March  28,   1892. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  been  more  explicit  in  my  telegram 
to  you,  or  did  you,  perhaps,  never  get  it?  I  suggested  a  meet- 
ing for  last  evening,  and  I  hoped  you  would  come;  refused 
some  invitations,  and  passed  a  solitary  and  doleful  night, — 
most  mournful. 

I  should  be  very  happy  to  meet  Mr.  Daly,  if  it  can  be  done, 
and  have  a  good  long  talk  with  him, — but  we  are  both  busy 
men;  /  especially  so,  just  now,  with  all  these  preparations  going 
forward.  But  any  night  you  say — here,  where  no  one  will  see 
us;  after  the  play;  we  three,  and  pipes,  in  my  Club  Room.  (I 
have  a  Club  Room  all  to  myself — it  is  my  own  Club — I  have 
elected  you  President — it  is  called  "The  Winter  Club" — we 
have  churchwarden  pipes — at  least  I  have — and  drinks;  there 
are  three  pictures  on  the  wall  in  the  room:  Winter,  the  Prince 

of  Wales,  and  myself — and  I'm  d if  I  know  which  of  the 

three  is  the  greater  villain !) 

If  this — if  anything — is  to  be  done  in  this  matter,  it  must  be 
brought  about  at  once,  as  otherwise  I  shall  have  to  close  with  the 
Fifth   Avenue    Theatre;    stay    out   of    New    York    altogether    I 


166  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

cannot.  I  want  to  see  you  at  once,  on  many  subjects.  "  Nero," 
of  course,  you  can  read — if  you  want  to:  /  shouldn't!  Will 
you  come  up  to-morrow? — if  so  I'll  sleep  until  four  in  the 
afternoon,  and  get  up  to  receive  you. 

I  have  lost  about  $8,000  this  time,  in  New  York,  and  I  am 
feeling  particularly  light  and  buoyant;  there  is  no  heavy, 
weighty,  bloated,  ponderance  about  me!  I'm  all  for  lightness 
and  airiness;  in  fact,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  went  up — up — 
up,  altogether.  Come  and  see  me.  Would  Mr.  Daly  drop  all 
ceremony,  and  come  with  you .''  Or  must  we  all  be  Dry-as-dusts .'' 
Ever  your  grateful  friend, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

An  appointment  was  made.  The  high  contract- 
ing powers  were  to  meet.  Good  results  might  have 
followed.  I  cannot  tell,  nor  does  it  signify  now. 
Mansfield,  always  quick  at  taking  fancies,  was  at 
times  suspicious  and  prone  to  believe  himself  the 
object  of  wily  intrigue.  I  was  not  surprised,  accord- 
ingly, to  receive  the  subjoined  letter,  which  suffi- 
ciently indicated  that  these  negotiations  would  reach 
no  practical  result. 

4  West  28th  Street, 

April  1,  1892. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  am  sorry  I  could  not  meet  Mr.  Daly  on  Wednesday,  for  I 

play  a  matinee  on  that  day.     It  would  be  out  of  the  question 

for  me  to  give  up  my  position  as  an  actor  and  enter  Mr.  Daly's 

company.     Why  should  I.''     My  profits,  according  to  my  books, 

show  $2,000  a  week.     If  I  spend  it,  that  is  my  business.     But 

it  will  be  time  enough  when  I  am  a  failure  to  think  of  stepping 

down   from  my   perch.      I   desire  to  do   great   plays   and   to  do 

them  greatly,  and  I  desire  to  do  new  things.     The  world  must 


A    CORRESPONDENCE  167 

move   on — on — not   back,    and    I    shall    move   on   also;    perhaps 
up — perhaps  out.  Always  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

N.  B. — I  need  not  say  that  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  meet 
Mr.  Daly — I  have  long  desired  to  know  him. 

Mansfield  and  Daly  met  and  talked,  for  an  hour, 
on  April  6, — not  in  my  presence,  but  I  was  sub- 
sequently informed  of  their  interview.  Notliing 
came  of  it.  JNlansfield,  however,  at  that  time, 
declared  Daly  to  be  a  delightful  man.  Each  pos- 
sessed strong  will,  dogged  determination,  and  great 
self-confidence.  Both  could  be  charming,  when  they 
wished  to  be ;  neither  was  readily  compHable  with  cir- 
cumstances. They  never  could  have  agreed.  They 
continued  to  correspond,  however,  for  some  time,  and 
this  episode  of  theatrical  liistory  is  instructively 
illustrated  by  the  letters  that  Mansfield  addressed 
to  Daly,  while  the  project  of  their  alliance  was  under 
consideration. 

4  West  28th  Street, 

New  York,  April  8,  1892. 
My  Dear  Mr.  Daly: — 

We  are  in  such  a  rush  and  whirl  of  work,  and  I  have  such 
a  peculiarly  hard  day's  work  before  me,  that  I  cannot  come 
across  to  see  you,  as  I  sliould  wish  to  do.  And  I  do  not  even 
know  that  I  can  very  clearly  reply  to  your  question. 

One  thing  is  very  distinct  in  my  mind,  and  that  is  the  impossi- 
bility and  the  inadvisability  of  making  an  appearance  here  other- 


168  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

wise  than  as  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude.  I  owe  that  much 
to  the  managers  of  other  cities,  who  render  me  65,  70  and  80 
per  cent,  of  the  receipts.  Otherwise  I  am  glad  and  happy  (more 
happy  than  I  can  say)  to  make  any  arrangement  whereby  I 
should  gain  the  benefit  of  your  advice  and  experience  and  your 
admirable  management. 

It  seems  to  me  that,  as  I  should  have  to  travel  with  the 
production,  instantly  upon  the  termination  of  the  season  at  your 
Theatre,  I  should  be  supported  by  the  company  that  has  played 
with  me  there.  It  seems  to  me  that  that  company  should  be 
selected  and  engaged  by  you,  and  that  they  should  be  under 
your  direction:  of  course  this  company  should  be  engaged  with 
a  view  to  its  ability  to  play  my  repertoire,  as  many  cities  require 
me  to  play  such  plays  of  mine  as  have  become  popular,  and 
in  very  many  cities  I  have  not  yet  appeared  at  all — I  think  I 
should  like:  "Mr.  Richard  Mansfield  supported  by  Mr.  Daly's 
Company  and  under  the  management  of  Mr.  Augustin  Daly." 

It  seems  to  me  that,  with  my  strength  in  the  country,  this 
combination  would  be  as  successful  as  the  late  Barrett  and  Booth 
arrangement — and  more  satisfactory — in  New  York  proper. 
Whenever  I  play  at  your  Theatre  I  am  satisfied  with  a  salary — 
or  any  arrangement  you  would  make.  I  should  stipulate  that 
Miss  Cameron  should  always  appear  in  my  support,  if  there  is 
any  suitable  part. 

It's  a  great  pity  I  may  not  see  you.  I  do  not  think  letters 
are  satisfactory — there  is  so  much  to  be  said  pro  and  con.  I 
leave  to-morrow,  at  4.30,  from  Weehawken.  If  you  would  be 
very  gracious  and  take  a  day  off?  I  have  my  car  and  we  could 
settle  everything  and  chat  quietlj^ — but,  as  I  have  already  said, 
any  arrangement  whereby  I  am  enabled  to  give  all  my  attention 
to  acting,  and  which  does  not  lessen  my  position  but  which  must 
heighten  my  position,  is  satisfactory  to  me. 

With  kindest  regards  and  a  thousand  apologies  for  this  inco- 
herent scrawl. 

Most  truly  yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


AUGUSTIX  DALY  IX  1892 


GOOD    INTENTIONS  169 

On  Private  Car. 

Los  Angeles,  May  20,  1892. 
My  Dear  Mr.  Daly: — 

I  thank  you  for  your  letter,  and  which  I  was  awaiting  with 
impatience.  I  quite  comprehend  all  you  say,  and  I  wish  with 
all  my  heart  that  it  could  be  otherwise.  I  would  very  gladly 
give  up  a  large  share  of  my  profits  to  be  with  such  a  master 
as  you,  and  to  be  guided  and  directed  by  you.  But  I  cannot 
sink  my  identity,  and  I  cannot  give  up  the  little  I  have  accom- 
plished in  the  past  years  of  incessant  labor.  My  name  must 
be  upon  my  banner  as  the  actor; — the  management,  and  all 
authority  and  authorship,   I  will  joyfully  relinquish. 

I  am  exceedingly  ambitious  and  I  confess  it.  I  desire  to 
produce  great  plays  and  to  play  them  greatly,  and  with  God's 
aid  I  shall  accomplish  this.  If  I  could  have  such  a  man  as 
you  by  my  side  it  would  be  accomplished  sooner.  I  have  no 
Theatre,  I  have  no  workshop,  I  have  little  or  no  management. 
I  should  like  to  acquire  the  management  and  the  workshop 
and  I  should  like  advice  and  guidance.  I  cannot  very  well  see 
myself  always — which  is  as  unfortunate  as  it  is  fortimate. 

The  scheme  I  had  in  mind  does  not  seem  to  mieet  with  your 
approval.  It  was  simply  that,  when  your  own  special  company 
was  away  from  your  Theatre,  you  should  play  me  and  my 
company,  or  me  supported  by  a  company  of  yours.  But,  failing 
this,  I  shall  be  glad  to  play  in  your  Theatre,  and  I  shall  be 
very  glad  and  very  grateful  for  your  advice.  If  this  meets 
with  your  approval  all  that  remains  is  for  us  to  arrange  the 
time,  and  to  settle  on  the  play.  If  for  the  latter  you  can  advise 
me,  or  if  you  can  supply  me,  I  should  indeed  be  glad. 

I  had  almost  ventured  to  hope  that  you  would  take  sufficient 
interest  in  me  to  find  the  play  and  the  company,  and  whatever 
terms  you  might  indicate  I  should  be  most  happy  to  accept. 

]\Iy  books  are  always  open  to  you,  and  you  will  see  that  I 
make  an  average  profit  (with  an  expense  of  $2,200, — $2,300  a 
week),  of  from  $1,000  to  $2,000  a  week;  my  responsibilities 
in  the  past  have  been  very  heavy,  and  are  so  still,  and  I  could 


170  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

not  therefore  afford  to  do  less  well  than  I  have  been^  and  am, 
doing. 

Please  believe  me  to  be,  dear  Mr.  Daly,  with  great  regard. 
Always  yours  truly, 

KicHARD  Mansfield. 
To  Augustin  Daly,  Esqr. 

Portland,  Ore., 

Monday,  June  6,  1892. 
My  Dear  Mr.  Daly: — 

I  am  in  receipt  of  your  letter,  for  which  accept  my  best 
thanks.  I  have  said  I  shall  be  delighted  to  play  with  you  and 
under  your  direction. 

With  regard  to  M.  Coquelin's  version  of  "The  Taming  of 
the  Shrew":  it  occurs  to  me  that  it  would  be  quaint  to  play 
a  Frenchman's  version  of  Shakespeare  translated  back  into  Eng- 
lish. It  seems  to  me  "une  chose  impossible."  I  might  play 
it  in  French  and  I  should  be  glad  to  do  so — but  in  English,  No 
• — it  would  be  too  queer.  I  fear  there  could  be  but  one  cry: 
What  is  the  matter  with  Shakespeare? 

Then,  too,  who  could  play  Katharina  after  Miss  Rehan?  Who 
would?  I  fear  this  is  not  to  be  done,  unless — as  I  have  said — 
I  did  it  in  French. 

Jerome's  translation  of  "Die  Ehre,"  on  the  other  hand,  seems 
an  excellent  idea,  and  one  I  should  be  glad  to  entertain,  if, 
after  reading  the  play,  I  find  the  character  I  should  have  to 
present  suitable  and  interesting, — which,  since  you  think  it  so, 
no  doubt  it  is.  (I  interject  a  little  idea  here — some  day,  when 
we  want  to  sweep  the  country,  let  us  play  "The  ^lerchant  of 
Venice," — Miss  Rehan  as  Portia,  and  for  me  Shyloch,  with  an 
ideal  Venice.     Lewis  as  Launcelot  Gobbo,  etc.,  etc.) 

The  terms  you  mention  are  perfectly  satisfactory.  It  would 
be,  in  my  opinion — and  I  speak  from  experience — idle  to  open 
with  "Beau  Brummell/'  or  any  of  my  well-worn  plays,  in  New 
York.  We  need  more  than  a  success  d'estime, — we  need  money, 
and  "Beau  B."  will  not,  for  a  year  to  come,  draw  one  dollar 


NAPOLEON  171 

in  New  York.     Nor  any  of  my  plays,  excepting  "Richard  III./* 
and  of  that  I  have  no  longer  the  scenery. 

I  have  an  idea,  which  I  advance  with  considerable  hesitation, 
and  which  has  been  in  my  mind  for  some  years,  and  in  which, 
from  what  I  can  gather,  there  is  a  large  amount  of  money,  but 
it  will,  in  its  execution,  demand  an  enormous  amount  of  care 
and  thought,  some  literary  effort  and  some  money.  It  is 
"Napoleon  Bonaparte."  I  should  call  the  play  simply  "Napoleon 
Bonaparte,"  and  I  should  deal  with  the  subject  from  the  period 
of  his  assumption  of  the  imperial  purple  to  the  time  of  his 
lonely  death  on  the  Island  of  St.  Helena. 

I  wonder  if  you  would  help  me  with  this?  It  would  make 
a  great  popular  play;  it  would  appeal  to  all  classes  and  all 
peoples.  I  should  make  Mme.  Rdcamier  the  heroine.  I  should 
introduce  the  beloved  Queen  Louisa  of  Prussia,  Josephine,  and 
Marie  Louise  of  Austria.  I  beg  you,  in  any  event,  to  consider 
this  suggestion  absolutely  confidential,  and  it  is,  I  feel,  hardly 
necessary  for  me  to  say  this.  I  do  not  know  where  to  address 
this,  so  I  send  it  to  the  Hollis  Street  Theatre,  in  the  hope  that 
it  may  reach  you. 

I  do  earnestly  hope  I  may  be  able  to  arrange  to  play  in  your 
home,  but  it  has  to  be  swiftly  decided,  as  others  are  waiting 
to  hear  from  me  with  regard  to  that  time   (in  September). 

Most  truly  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


After  this  affair  had  passed,  as  there  was  no 
secret  about  the  matter,  I  chanced  to  mention  to 
Irving  my  propitious  view  of  a  professional  alhance 
between  Mansfield  and  Miss  Rehan.  He  smiled, 
in  his  satiric  manner,  and  playfully  remarked: 
"Very  interesting — ah,  yes,  very.  So  you  wanted  to 
put   another   Richmond  in   the   field,   eh?     Daly's 


172  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

been  up  to  that  for  a  long  time:  he  wanted  Terriss 
to  leave  me  and  come  over  to  him."  Well;  there 
cannot  be  too  many  Richmonds  in  the  field;  every 
good  actor  in  a  position  of  influence  is  a  stimulant 
to  other  good  actors,  and  so  I  told  him,  and  with  that 
rational  proposition  he  fully  agreed. 

The  only  practical  result  of  the  correspondence 
was  an  agreement  that  Mansfield's  next  appearance 
in  the  capital  should  be  made  at  Daly's  Theatre. 

Daly  did  not  abandon  his  plan  of  forming  a  pro- 
fessional combination  to  oppose  that  of  Irving.  He 
not  only  negotiated  with  William  Terriss, — an  actor 
whose  performances  of  Squire  Thornhill,  in  "Olivia," 
and  Henry  the  Second,  in  "Becket,"  had  he  done 
nothing  else,  were  such  as  entitle  him  to  honorable 
remembrance  in  theatrical  annals, — but  also  con- 
templated a  proposal  of  the  project  to  Herbert 
Beerbohm-Tree,  and  he  once  thought  of  effecting  it 
with  Mr.  Kyrle  Bellew — who,  indeed,  in  association 
with  Mrs.  Cora  Urquhart  Potter,  acted  under  his 
management,  in  the  season  of  1895-'96.  At  the 
last  it  was  his  purpose  to  accomplish  this  design 
by  the  choice  of  some  young,  rising  actor,  who 
might  prove  amenable  to  his  instruction;  and  he 
encouraged  high  expectations  as  to  the  future  of 
both  Sidney  Herbert  and  Tyrone  Power.  His 
untimely  death,  however,  blasted  that  plan,  together 


IN    CALIFORNIA  173 

with  many  other  plans  and  hopes  for  the  advance- 
ment and  welfare  of  the  stage. 

In  the  spring  of  1892  Mansfield  made  a  visit  to 
that  romantic  section  of  our  country,  California. 
He  had  been  seen  there  as  Rifflardini  and  Chevrial; 
his  advent,  in  new  characters,  was  warmly  welcomed. 
He  became,  in  time,  exceedingly  fond  of  CaH- 
fornia,  bought  an  orange  ranch  there,  and  even 
thought  of  making  his  home  there;  but  his  first 
impressions  of  the  Golden  State  were  not  favorable, 
and  he  communicated  them  to  me,  in  a  highly  char- 
acteristic strain  of  banter  and  censure.  He  knew 
that  I  possessed  a  little  cottage  in  the  San  Ber- 
nardino Valley,  near  the  wonderful  Sierra  JNIadre 
range,  to  which  I  had  expressed  the  intention  to 
retire,  in  order  to  spend,  in  peaceful  seclusion,  the 
last  days  of  a  long,  laborious  Hfe, — a  purpose  which 
he  did  not  then  deem  wise.  His  California  engage- 
ment began  on  April  18,  at  the  Baldwin  Theatre, 
San  Francisco,  with  "Beau  Brummell."  This  was 
his  first  letter  from  the  Pacific  coast: 


On  my  car. 

Valencia  &  25th  Streets, 

San  Francisco,  April  26,  1892. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Just  a  line  to  say  all's  well.     Business  not  what  many  people 
would  have  one  imagine  at  a  distance — but  exceedingly  good; 


174  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

good   enough    to   make    a    very   handsome    profit,    and    I    don't 
believe  that  anybody  does  any  better. 

They  are  queer  people  here,  and  very  primitive;  as  for  critics, 
there  are  none, — but  lots  of  flies;  and  one  side  of  the  street 
is  hot  and  the  other  side  is  cold,  and  there  is  an  eternal 
wind  blowing,  like  the  tide  of  doom — I  suppose  it's  the  trade- 
wind. 

Earthquakes  too,  we  have — and  they're  very  funny;  nobody 
seems  to  mind  them  at  all.  I  am  living  on  my  car — it's  like  a 
yacht,  and  they  have  moved  me  out  to  Valencia — twenty  minutes' 
ride,  by  cable  car,  from  the  Theatre.  The  air  is  good  and  there 
are  flowers  growing  all  around.  I  am  happy  and  comfortable, 
out  of  the  noises  and  the  dust  and  the  crowd  and  the  jangle. 
San  Francisco  is  the  noisiest  and  most  depraved  city  I  have 
ever  been  in — it  is  quite  horrible;  and  it  takes  a  good  deal  to 
shock  me.  .    .    . 

Chinatown  is  interesting — it  is  a  bit  of  old  China  trans- 
planted— even  the  houses  are  Chinese:  in  the  Theatre  there,  they 
tell  me,  if  an  actor  displeases,  the  audience  shoots  him !  Civiliza- 
tion has  not  advanced  as  far  as  that  with  us — thank  Heaven !  .  .   . 

Always 

Your  true  and  grateful 

Richard   Mansfield. 

While  in  San  Francisco  he  gave  performances 
of  Chevrial,  Prince  Karl,  Titmouse,  Nero,  Jekyll 
and  Hyde,  and  Don  Juan.  He  subsequently- 
acted  at  Fresno,  Los  Angeles,  Stockton,  Sacra- 
mento, Tacoma,  Seattle,  Portland,  Ogden,  Salt 
Lake  City,  Denver,  Lincoln,  Sioux  City,  and  Omaha, 
ending  his  tour,  at  the  latter  city,  on  July  2.  From 
Los  Angeles  he  wrote,  in  a  vein  of  acrid  discontent, — 
yet  the  place  in  which,  not  long  afterward,  he  was 


DISCONTENT  175 

inclined  to  settle  and  reside,  is  not  a  hundred  miles 
distant  from  that  hospitable  and  charming  city: 

On   Private   Car;    Los    Angeles,   Calif., 

May  20,  1892. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

.  .  •  Redlands  may  be  very  beautiful — but  Los  Angeles 
is  not.  It  is  red  hot  just  now,  and  the  town  is  suffering  from 
scarlet  fever  and  a  religious  meeting  or  convention:  a  person 
of  the  name  of  Mills  is  exhorting  the  miserable  wretches,  to 
the  extent  of  10,000  a  day,  to  give  up  rum  and  everything 
else  he  doesn't  like.  The  city  itself  is  not  beautiful,  and 
everything  is  very  primitive.  The  most  painful  feature  of  the 
city  and  its  immediate  vicinity  is  the  lack  of  foliage — there 
are  no  trees,  at  least,  very  few,  and  therefore  no  shade.  It 
is  all  sunshine  and  dust.  Irrigation  costs  a  lot  of  money, 
and  there  is  no  water. 

England  will  suit  you  better.  The  eye  has  no  rest  here — 
the  mind  no  peace.  Everybody  is  bragging — because  there  is 
nothing  to  brag  about;  the  beauty  of  the  country, — its  mar- 
vellous resources;  etc.,  etc., — is  dinned  into  your  ears  with 
painful  insistence,  until  you  long  to  say,  "Damn  your  coun- 
try !" — only  one  doesn't,  and  the  result  is  that  they  really  are 
beginning  to  believe  in  their  own  lying.  Redlands  may  be  a 
Paradise — but  again,  all  this  country  is  volcanic — earthquakes 
are  constant — the  country  shook  again  yesterday,  and  that 
has  an  unpleasant  sense  of  uncertainty  and  insecurity. 

Give  me  England — give  me  its  lanes  and  hedges,  its  fields, 
the  skylark,  the  soft  blue  sky,  the  purple  haze  on  the  middle 
distance,  the  pools  and  brooks,  the  rush-fringed  rivers,  the 
poplar  and  the  willow,  the  old  cobble  church,  the  ruined  arch 
above  the  village  street,  the  simple  rustic,  the  country  inn,  the 
home-brewed  ale — give  me  England ! — and  damn  these  electric 
cars  and  cable  cars,  in  a  damned  hot  wilderness,  where  you 
can't    drink   the    damned    alkali    water,    and    where    every    man 


176  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

has  a  right  to  spit  upon  your  boots,  slap  you  on  the  back,  and 
brag  in  your  ear;  where  ignorance  and  arrogance  own  the  day, 
and  where  your  gentleness,  learning,  or  gentility  are  cursed  and 
derided !  You  won't  like  it — you  won't  like  it !  Sell  it,  and 
come  and  live  with  me  and  mine,  in  dear,  still  old  England. 

Ever  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


On  his  arrival  home  from  the  West  he  entered 
immediately  upon  preparation  for  a  presentment 
of  "The  Scarlet  Letter."  A  plaj''  had  been  written 
for  him  by  the  English  novelist  Joseph  Hatton, 
and  that  subject,  which  he  had  long  been  consider- 
ing, now  engrossed  his  thoughts.  In  this  case, 
as  in  several  kindred  cases,  he  deemed  that  the 
play  required  revision  and  alteration,  and  he  revised 
and  altered  it,  preparatory  to  a  private  reading  of  it, 
at  my  home. 

4  West  28th  Street,  New  York, 

August  9,  1892. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

It  is  hard  work  that  keeps  me  here  in  mid-summer,  and  it  is 
for  that  reason  that  I  have  not  yet  made  my  trip  to  Staten 
Island.  I  cannot  come  to  you  to-day,  but  I  shall  be  with  you 
to-morrow  evening  (Wednesday),  without  fail. 

I  see  no  earthly  reason  why  "The  Scarlet  Letter"  should 
not  be  put  upon  the  stage,  especially  if  we  cling  close  to 
Hawthorne.  Surely  there  can  be  no  ridiculous  squeamishness 
concerning  the  subject — there  is  hardly  a  great  play  that  does 
not  deal  with  the  same  question,  and  "The  Scarlet  Letter"  is 
given   to   school-girls   to   read. 


A    FINE    READING  177 

As  concerns  Hawthorne,  I  have  touched  his  work  with  great 
reverence.  As  concerns  my  playing  Dimmesdale,  it  is  as  it 
may  be. 

Yours  ever, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


The  reading  was  duly  given,  on  that  August 
evening,  the  theme  was  much  and  freely  discussed, 
and  the  spirit  of  the  actor,  always  supersensitive, 
was,  as  far  as  possible,  cheered  and  encouraged.  I 
did  not,  however,  and  could  not,  believe  that  the 
subject  of  "The  Scarlet  Letter"  would  become 
widely  popular  when  presented  on  the  stage;  I 
perceived  not  any  exceptional  felicity  in  the  treat- 
ment to  which  it  had  been  subjected;  and  I  did 
not  express  the  ardent  conviction  that  the  play  would 
fulfil  all  his  hopes  and  wishes.  Mansfield,  usually 
impatient  under  dissent  from  his  opinions,  did  not 
conceal  his  annoyance  that  the  play  was  not  received 
with  unbounded  enthusiasm.  His  reading  of  it, 
meanwhile,  was  dehghtful, — far  more  interesting 
than  any  performance  of  it  ever  given:  his  sug- 
gested impersonations,  in  particular,  of  the  two  old 
beldames,  Hartley  and  Barlow,  were  among  the 
most  life-like,  natural,  and  effective  that  it  has  been 
my  privilege  to  see;  but  he  was  not  pleased  on  being 
told  that  they  were  preferred  to  his  suggested  imper- 
sonation of  the  wretched  Dimmesdale,  nor  was  he 


178  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

tolerant  of  even  the  slightest  douht  of  the  avail- 
ability of  Hawthorne's  story  for  theatrical  illustra- 
tion. There  is  no  "question"  in  "The  Scarlet 
Letter,"  no  "problem,"  no  obtrusion  of  sophistical 
reasoning  about  unclean  subjects,  under  the  pre- 
tence of  that  sickening  humbug  the  moral  "lesson." 
The  tale  is  one  of  domestic  tragedy.  Objection 
to  it,  for  the  purpose  of  the  stage,  in  so  far  as 
objection  could  be  made,  or  has  been  made,  rests 
on  its  minutiae  of  mental  analysis,  its  metaphysical 
nature  (for  drama  should  concern  itself  more  with 
physics  than  with  metaphysics),  its  pervasive 
atmosphere  of  still  and  mute  agony,  and  its  dense, 
unreheved  gloom.  It  should  be  said,  though,  that 
Mansfield  accomplished  more  with  this  theme  than 
has  been  accomplished  by  any  other  actor  that  ever 
touched  it.  The  play  was  produced  by  him  on 
September  12,  at  Daly's  Theatre,  where  it  had  a 
run  of  three  weeks.  His  embodiment  of  Dimmes- 
dale  was,  from  the  first,  deeply  interesting  to  stu- 
dents of  acting,  but  it  was  not,  at  the  outset,  the 
rounded,  compact,  sympathetic  performance  which 
subsequently  it  became, — for,  in  time,  it  largely 
gained  in  authority,  distinction,  and  finish,  and,  at  its 
best,  was  deeply  impressive  by  reason  of  its  melan- 
choly beauty,  its  pathos,  and  its  thrilling  outbursts 
of  tragic  emotion. 


Photoyraph,  Elite  Studio 


VII. 

1893. 

Aftee  the  close  (October  1,  1892)  of  his  engage- 
ment at  Daly's  Theatre  in  "The  Scarlet  Letter," 
theatrical  enterprise  in  New  York  being  uncom- 
monly active  and  dramatic  attractions  being  many 
and  strong,  Mansfield  deemed  it  expedient  to  make 
a  long  tour,  and  he  was  not  again  seen  in  the 
capital  until  the  autumn  of  the  following  year. 
In  the  meantime  he  acted  in  many  cities,  through- 
out the  South  and  West,  and  made  another  visit 
to  the  Pacific  coast;  and  it  happened  that,  in  the 
spring  of  1893,  we  met  in  California,  under  circum- 
stances that  were  especially  agreeable. 

San  Francisco,  on  Private  Car  at 

Valencia  &  25th  Streets, 

May  4,   1893. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  was  both  delighted  and  surprised  to  hear  from  you  and  to 
discover  that  you  are  so  near — and  yet  so  far.  Certes  I  must 
see  you!  You  will  see  from  the  enclosed  that  we  shall  shortly 
be  in  your  neighborhood,  and  where  will  you  join  us?  It 
would,  I  presume,  be  futile  to  ask  you  to  come  here?  Shall 
it  be  in  Riverside?  How  I  envy  you — and  yet  rejoice  to  know 
of — that  rest  and  peace  you  will  find  at  Mentone.      I   should 

179 


180  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

like  to  visit  you  and  peek  into  it  all;  but  I  must  hammer,  ham- 
mer, hammer,  on  the  hard,  hard  road!  and  there  is  no  rest. 
Moreover  I  am  awake  day  and  night,  wondering  what  I  am 
going  to  do  next.  Since  nobody  writes  plays,  and  nobody 
cares  for  those  that  have  been  written,  I  am  in  the  utmost 
despair.  To  present  Shakespeare  requires  a  fortune,  and  I 
will  not  risk  the  little  I  have  saved,  in  one  venture.  More- 
over, it  is  time  Somebody  did  a  little  acting,  and  if  I'm  to 
give  out  my  money  I  would  rather  bestow  it  where  it  will 
accomplish  some  lasting  benefit  and  not  squander  it  in  paint 
and  canvas  and  tinsel,  of  which  I  have  already  a  vast  store- 
house full,  the   contents   of  which  won't   fetch   $5.00   and   for 

which    I    pay    $700    a    year    rent — like    a    d fool!      And 

spent  $40,000   or   more  on  the   d ed   stuff.      It's   like   that 

elephant  you  told  me  of:  "That  damned  beast  eats  a  ton  of 
hay  for  breakfast!"  I'm  for  plays  without  scenery — and 
without  costumes,  and  in  the  latter  respect  I  think  I  shall  be 
hitting  the  fancy  of  the  present  day  on  the  very  head!  How- 
ever, join  me,  and  we  will  curse  and  damn  everybody  and 
everything  to  the  Queen's  taste — if  she  has  any.   .    .    . 

Yours  ever, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

They  tell  me  Clement  Scott  has  been  here,  and  met  a  lady 
by  appointment,  and  married  her,  and  is  full  of  curious 
ideas  concerning  Japan, — where  he  spent  a  day;  he  has  also 
acquired  a  great  and  sudden  admiration  for  America  and 
Americans.  Thank  the  Lord  he  isn't  here  now;  or  I  might  see 
him — and  I  don't  imagine  anything  more  horrible,  for  he 
always  gives  me  the  impression  of  a  person  who  is  just  about 
to  burst. 

We  met  at  Riverside,  where  he  acted  before  a 
numerous  and  enthusiastic  audience,  and  from  that 
place  travelled  to  San  Bernardino,  and  being  then 


MENTONE  181 

only  twelve  miles  from  my  California  home  I  was 
able  to  persuade  him  to  come,  with  Mrs.  Mansfield, 
and  pass  a  day  in  our  village.  They  came,  accord- 
ingly, in  his  private  car,  which  was  placed  on  a  side- 
track till  evening, — when  it  would  be  needful  for 
him  to  return  to  San  Bernardino,  to  give  a  per- 
formance. Mentone  is  situated  near  the  eastern 
extremity  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful  valleys  in 
the  world.  Eastward  and  northward  the  prospect 
is  bounded  by  magnificent,  rugged,  snow-capped 
mountains.  Southward  there  is  a  rolling  country, 
backed  by  a  view  of  distant  mountain  peaks.  West- 
ward the  spacious,  widening  valley, — here  sprinkled 
with  wild  flowers  and  blooming  with  orange  groves 
and  vineyards,  there  bleak  with  broad,  uncultivated 
stretches  of  "brush," — slopes  gradually  to  the  ocean, 
about  ninety  miles  away.  Mansfield  no  sooner  saw 
the  place  than  he  became  fascinated  by  it.  The  day 
was  the  18th  of  May.  The  sunshine  was  glorious. 
Great  masses  of  white  cloud, — infrequent  in  those 
summer  skies, — were  drifting  over  the  mountains. 
The  cool  air  was  fragrant  "with  the  odor  of  roses 
and  lemon  blossoms.  The  landscape  was  perfec- 
tion. Flights  of  gleaming  blackbirds  winged  over 
the  valley.  The  sweet,  liquid  song  of  the  meadow- 
lark  was  heard,  mingled,  now  and  then,  with  the 
low,  soft  double  call  of  the  nesting  doves.     At  that 


182  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

time  luxuriant  rows  of  splendid  trees  fringed  a 
fine  stream  of  rushing  water,  a  few  rods  from  our 
dwelling.  The  whole  region  seemed  a  paradise. 
For  an  hour  or  two  the  delighted  actor  amused 
himself  by  rambling  in  the  adjacent  flower-spangled 
plains.  Then,  having  returned  to  the  house,  for 
luncheon,  he  suddenly  announced,  "I  must  own  a 
ranch  here!"  No  one  could,  at  first,  believe  that 
he  was  in  earnest.  "Is  there  a  ranch  for  sale  any- 
where about?"  he  asked.  Orange  groves  were,  gen- 
erally, "for  sale"  in  California  at  that  time, — it  is 
even  possible  to  purchase  them  now, — and  he  was 
informed  that  several  neighboring  groves  were  in 
the  market,  and  that  the  nearest  one,  comprising 
twenty  acres,  had  only  lately  been  offered,  at  a  price 
which  was  deemed  reasonable.  In  an  instant  he  rose, 
seized  his  hat,  and  started  for  the  door.  "Come  with 
me,  and  let  me  see  it,"  he  said;  and,  of  course,  his 
wish  was  gratified, — since  it  was  not,  and  could  not 
be,  supposed  that  he  would,  at  once,  without  the  least 
examination  of  the  matter,  precipitate  himself  into 
the  business  of  raising  oranges.  The  grove  in  ques- 
tion, duly  burdened  with  the  inevitable  mortgage, 
was  in  possession  of  an  old  man  and  his  wife.  The 
quiet  little  hamlet  had  been  much  excited  by  the 
arrival  of  the  distinguished  actor,  currently  supposed 
to  be  another  Croesus,  and  those  old  persons  were 


A   PIG   IN   A   POKE  183 

equally  startled  and  enraptured  on  suddenly  finding 
him  at  their  door,  intent  on  buying  an  estate  which 
they  were  only  too  glad  to  sell.  To  them  the  advent 
of  Mansfield,  as  a  purchaser,  seemed  nothing  less 
than  a  special  providence,  for  they  looked  on  him 
as  another  Vanderbilt  or  Huntington,  the  pos- 
sessor of  fabulous  wealth.  Their  genuine  awe,  in 
the  august  presence,  did  not,  however,  so  far  dis- 
sipate a  sense  of  thrift  as  to  prevent  them  from 
instantly  raising  the  price  of  the  property  to  a  figure 
much  higher  than  had  previously  been  named.  The 
moment  it  was  mentioned  Mansfield,  without  the 
slightest  demur,  agreed  to  pay  it.  A  whispered 
warning,  that  he  was  being  imposed  upon  and  should 
pause  and  consider,  was  brusquely  disregarded. 
"The  affair  is  settled,"  he  said:  "Z  am  buying  this 
ranch.  Besides,  these  old  people  want  to  sell  it, 
and  they  need  the  money.  I  like  old  people.  I  am 
always  sorry  for  them.  They  need  sympathy.  We 
shall  all  be  old,  if  we  live  long  enough.  Let  us  go 
and  tell  Beatrice."  The  agreement  to  buy  an  estate 
having  been  thus  calmly  and  rationally  made, — 
without  a  preliminary  glance  by  which  to  ascertain 
anything  about  its  condition,  or  even  an  inquiry  as 
to  how  much  of  the  land  was  under  cultivation, — 
Mansfield  accepted  an  orange,  a  "Mediterranean 
sweet," — the  only  orange,  as  it  happened,  that  ever 


184  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

came  to  him  from  his  ranch, — and,  returning  to 
my  cottage,  announced  to  Mrs.  Mansfield,  in  the 
deep,  booming  voice  he  sometimes  used  when  pleased 
and  playful:  "Bee-ah-trice,  you  are  now  the  owner 
of  an  orange  grove!"  A  day  or  two  later,  at  Los 
Angeles,  the  legal  obhgation,  unhappily,  was 
assumed, — Mansfield  paying  $1,000  and  signing 
a  contract  to  pay  the  rest,  or  forfeit  his  investment. 
He  was  earnestly,  urgently,  and  in  good  time  advised 
against  this  rash  transaction, — for  the  judgment  of 
Mrs.  Mansfield,  and  of  all  his  friends,  was  opposed 
to  it :  but  he  would  not  be  prevented.  The  most  that 
friendly  interposition  could  effect  was  a  reduction  of 
the  price  stipulated,  from  $15,000  to  $13,500.  The 
ranch  proved  to  be  in  a  bad  condition, — a  consider- 
able part  of  it  not  having  been  even  cleared  of 
"brush"  and  stones.  The  price  charged  for  it  was, 
under  then  existing  conditions,  exorbitant.  The 
ultimate  result  of  the  business  was  not  only  Mans- 
field's loss  of  the  property  and  more  than  $3,000  that 
he  had  paid,  but  a  protracted,  wearisome,  vexatious, 
iniquitous  litigation.  The  season  of  1893-'94<  was 
full  of  troubles  for  him.  His  losses  were  heavy. 
His  health  was  seriously  impaired.  He  could  not 
make  the  payments  that  he  had  agreed  to  make.  The 
orange  grove  which  thus  distressed  him  and  thus 
sHpped  out  of  his  hands  has  since  been  well  culti- 


A    SPECULATION  185 

vated  and  has  become  very  valuable.  He  called  it 
"Mansfield,"  and,  for  a  time,  built  golden  dreams 
upon  its  ownersliip.  It  is  marked,  to  this  day,  by  a 
flower-covered  pyramid  of  stones,  in  front  of  a  crazy 
old  house, — a  relic  of  the  beginning  of  abortive 
plans  for  a  beautiful  garden.  I  have  always 
regretted  that  he  ever  saw  the  geranium  hedges,  the 
oleanders,  and  the  red  and  yellow  roses  of  beauti- 
ful Mentone.  His  proceedings,  on  the  occasion  of 
his  visit  to  the  retreat,  however,  afford  an  illumina- 
tive, authentic  glimpse  of  his  impulsive  character 
and  heedless  prodigality. 

Mansfield's  purchase  of  that  orange  farm,  in  such 
a  haphazard  way,  was  manifestly  injudicious,  yet 
beneath  its  recklessness  there  was  a  practical  purpose, 
and  one  which,  under  favorable  conditions,  might 
have  been  prosperously  effected.  Later  he  dis- 
closed that  purpose  to  me,  speaking  to  this  effect: 

"We  will  send  to  Scotland  and  secure,  from  the 
Dundee  Company,  the  services  of  some  man  experi- 
enced in  the  manufacture  of  marmalade.  Tons  of  it 
are  eaten  in  this  country,  every  year.  It  can  be 
manufactured  here  better  than  in  Scotland:  here  is 
the  fresh  fruit,  and  good  markets  are  within  reach, 
and  even  New  York  is  no  further  from  us  than  from 
them, — though  the  freight  is  higher.  We  will  estab- 
lish our  factory  here :  we  will  build  up  a  business  and 


186  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

gradually  expand  it;  acquire  more  groves;  put  out 
lemons,  olives,  and  figs,  and,  under  the  name  of 
Mansfield,  establish  a  fine  paying  industry.  If  we 
fail  elsewhere,  we  have  then  this  retreat:  if  we  suc- 
ceed here,  we  have  a  source  of  income  to  sustain  us 
in  theatrical  enterprise  when  we  wish." — In  his 
sanguine  speculative  mood  this  dreamer  omitted  to 
consider  that,  if  the  ranch  as  well  as  the  acting 
were  to  fail,  he  would  indeed  have  an  elephant  on 
his  hands,  and  one  that  would,  in  the  matter  of 
"hay  for  breakfast,"  require  considerably  more  than 
one  ton. 

At  the  time  of  his  purchase  at  Mentone  it  was 
not  easy  to  restrain  him  from  other  rash  ventures 
of  the  same  kind.  In  one  of  his  letters,  after  leaving 
California,  he  wrote: 

"I  think  if  an  offer  were  made  of  $1,000  cash,  for  ten 
acres,  adjoining  my  property,  toward  the  Santa  Ana  river, 
it  would  be  accepted,  for  what  they  all  want  is  Cash!  I  do 
not  know  who  owns  that  land,  but  I  should  like  to  extend  my 
property  that  way,  for  I  think  the  land  is  just  as  good  there, 
and  I  want  to  grow  things,  and  not  to  speculate.  If  it  can  be 
done,  a  check  for  $1,000  can  be  had  from  me,  on  receipt  of 
the  title.  On  this  ten  acres  I  should  like  to  have  a  pond  built, 
and  olives  planted." 

As  Mansfield  did  not  know  by  whom  that  land 
was  owned,  and  as  he  was  absent  from  the  scene. 


EDWIN    BOOTH  187 

it  was  possible  to  restrain  his  alacrity  of  invest- 
ment in  agricultural  enterprise,  but  for  a  few  weeks 
he  continued  to  be  wildly  enthusiastic  about  his 
orange  grove.  Some  of  the  plans  that  he  made 
during  the  continuance  of  that  day-dream  indicate 
both  the  generosity  of  his  disposition  and  his  innate 
love  of  beauty.  I  know  not  with  how  many  impe- 
cunious veterans  he  purposed  to  populate  his 
dominions  in  Mentone;  they  were  numerous;  and 
he  dwelt  with  evident  feehng  on  the  prospect  of 
the  comfort  they  would  find  there.  Nothing  came 
of  either  his  business  scheme  or  his  philanthropy, 
and  it  was  a  blessed  rehef  for  all  when  finally  he 
relinquished  that  property  and  freed  himself  from 
the  harpies  of  legal  persecution. 

In  this  year,  1893,  died  that  great  actor  and 
greater  man,  Edwin  Booth,  one  of  the  noblest  and 
gentlest  human  beings  that  ever  I  have  known. 
More  and  more,  as  the  years  have  passed  and  as  I 
have  studied  the  men,  the  actors  and  the  acting 
made  known  in  their  passage,  my  conviction  has 
been  deepened  of  his  greatness  in  the  dramatic  art 
and  of  the  beauty  of  his  character,  the  dignity  of 
his  hfe,  and  the  sweet  influence  that  he  exercised, 
and  left.  Mansfield,  leaving  California  and  pro- 
ceeding on  his  tour,  was  apprised  of  this  bereave- 
ment, and  was  moved  thus  to  mention  it. 


188  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

Butte,  Montana, 

June,   13,  1893. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

.  .  .  I  sympathize  with  you  greatly,  in  the  loss  of  your 
friend — but  you  should  not  say  he  is  the  last.  What  I — I — I, 
am  I — nothing?  Do  you  bite  your  thumb  at  me?  There  is 
much  drivel  being  written  about  the  last  actor.  If  there  is 
demand  there  will  be  supply.  For  my  part,  let  me  cultivate 
oranges  and  not  opinions. 

You  should  have  stayed  with  us  on  the  car — it's  your  own 
fault  you  didn't.  We  are  here  in  snow  and  ice — it's  awful. 
I'm  so  cold  I  can  barely  write.  (Whew!  "barely,"  how  that 
word  makes  me  shiver — I'm  sorry  I  used  it.)  Yes,  the  plain, 
the  mountains — were  all  covered  with  snow,  this   morning. 

It's   a   d ,   dreary — desolate — dirty   place.      All    furnaces 

and  factories  and  mines,  mines,  mines — and  dirty  Indians  and 
smutty- faced  miners,  and  the  greed  of  gold  in  every  eye. 
Crowded    house    last    night — but    I    do    not    know    what    they 

thought  of  Brummell — I  fancy  they  opinioned  he  was  a  d 

fool! 

I  enclose  a  few  penny  and  shilling  curses,  for  you  to  dis- 
tribute among  your  friends,  and  I  desire  finally  to  say  that, 
if  you  will  have  the  decency  to  join  us,  on  June  24,  in  Colo- 
rado Springs,  I  will  show  you  the  finest  sight  on  God's  earth — 
to  wit  "The  Garden  of  the  Gods,"  which  there  is  nothing  more 
sublime  in  the  way  of  spectacle:  and  we  will  then  carry  you 
East  with  us,  nolens  volens.     With  more  curses. 

Yours   faithfully  ever, 

Richard. 

his  seal! 

The  most  painful  chapter  in  the  history  of  Mans- 
field's professional  career  began  with  his  return 
to  the  Atlantic  coast  and  his  re-entrance  in  New 
York  in  the  autumn  of  1893.    He  was  bitterly  dis- 


"THUS    BAD    BEGINS"  189 

satisfied  with  the  circumstances  of  his  fortune;  he 
considered  himself  the  victim  of  reprehensible  pubKc 
neglect;  and  he  had  become  greatly  incensed  against 
foreign  actors,  and  especially  against  Henry  Irving, 
whom  he  now  determined  professionally  to  oppose, 
by  producing  "The  INIerchant  of  Venice"  and  acting 
Shylockj  and,  immediately  afterward,  producing 
"Twelfth  Night,"  and  acting  Malvolio.  It  was,  of 
course,  right  that  he  should  choose  those  parts,  or 
any  other  available  part,  irrespective  of  the  achieve- 
ments of  other  actors.  With  "Twelfth  Night"  he 
might  have  prospered:  as  Malvolio,  that  greatly 
conceived,  intricately  wrought,  and  man^ellously 
sustained  and  expressed  personification  of  self- 
love,  he  would  have  given  a  great  performance. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  was  unwise  to  choose 
Shylock,  at  that  critical  time,  when  the  memory 
of  Edwin  Booth's  potential  and  thrilUng  persona- 
tion of  the  part  still  lingered,  and  when  Irving's 
wonderful  embodiment  of  it  possessed  a  prodigious 
popularity  and  was  actually  in  public  view.  This 
point  is  equally  beside  consideration  of  either  Mans- 
field's aptitude  for  the  character  or  his  rank  as 
an  actor:  it  is  one  of  management, — which  he 
liked  to  call  "generalship,"  and  in  which,  con- 
trary to  his  belief,  he  was  often  at  fault.  However 
excellent  and  deserving  as  an  actor  he  may  then 


190  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

have  been,  public  opinion  had  not  accepted  him  as 
another  Booth,  and  it  had  accepted  Irving's  per- 
formance of  Shyloch  as  representative  and  incom- 
parable. The  time,  furthermore,  was  unpropitious 
for  any  costly  enterprise,  the  business  of  the  whole 
country  having  been  prostrated  by  "panic."  It  was 
known,  for  example,  and  Mansfield  knew  it  by  per- 
sonal experience,  that  "people,  and  rich  people,  were 
paying  for  theatre  tickets  with  i.  o.  u.'s."  Only  a 
few  months  earlier  he  had  explicitly  declared  his 
aversion  to  the  making  of  a  revival  of  Shakespeare, 
and  risking  his  savings  in  one  venture,  saying,  "If 
I  am  to  give  out  my  money,  I  would  rather 
bestow  it  where  it  will  accomplish  some  lasting 
benefit."  That  preference  was  wise,  for  the  situa- 
tion had  become  perilous,  and  in  theatrical  circles, 
all  over  the  land,  there  was  an  anxious  sense  of 
insecurity.  The  theatre-going  public  had  but  little 
money  to  spend  on  "amusements,"  and,  naturally, 
that  money  was  expended  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
such  exhibitions  as  were  then  the  most  prominent 
and  celebrated.  Henry  Ir\ang  and  Ellen  Terry, 
with  elaborate  and  beautiful  productions  of  diversi- 
fied and  interesting  plays,  and  with  an  exceptionally 
fine  dramatic  company,  were  traversing  the  country, 
and,  as  it  happened,  the  tide  of  popular  interest  was 
flowing  more  strongly  and  steadily  in  their  favor  than 


IMPRUDENCE  191 

in  that  of  any  of  their  competitors.  Ellen  Terry's 
acting, — especially  her  superb  personation  of  Portia, 
much  the  best  that  has  been  seen  in  our  time, — would, 
in  itself,  have  been  almost  sufficient  to  have  caused 
that  effect.  A  more  inauspicious  moment,  surely, 
could  not  have  been  selected  for  the  making  of  a 
costly  Shakespearean  revival  and  for  the  present- 
ment of  a  new  Shylock, — a  character  possessing  no 
intrinsic  charm,  but,  when  truthfully  embodied,  being 
barbarous  and  repellent,  the  victorious  theatrical 
employment  of  which  has  always  been  found  to 
depend  either  upon  colossal  power  or  marvellous 
intellectual  subtlety  in  the  actor  of  it,  or  upon  super- 
latively fine  acting  in  the  auxihar  parts,  or  upon 
splendor  of  environment,  or  upon  all  these  com- 
bined. Yet  that  was  the  moment  and  that  was  the 
character  selected  by  INIansfield,  for  a  venture,  which, 
even  under  favorable  circumstances,  might  have 
seemed  of  dubious  expediency.  On  October  9,  1893, 
he  began  an  engagement  in  New  York,  at  a  little 
theatre  called  Herrmann's,  in  the  second  story  of  a 
building  at  the  southwest  corner  of  Broadway  and 
Twenty-ninth  Street, — a  theatre  well  adapted  for 
the  exhibition  of  a  conjuror's  tricks,  for  which  it 
was  intended,  but  absolutely  unsuitable  for  the  pre- 
sentment of  a  Shakespearean  play, — and  there,  after 
acting,    in   rapid    succession,    Brummell,    Chevrial, 


192  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

Dimmesdale,  and  Jekyll  and  Hyde,  he  produced 
"The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  October  23,  and  for  the 
first  time  performed  Shyloch.  By  what  means 
he  succeeded  in  placing  his  elaborate  production 
upon  that  diminutive  stage  it  was  difficult  to  under- 
stand. At  a  later  time,  when  Herrmann's  Theatre 
had  become  the  Princess  Theatre,  and  the  stage 
had  been  rebuilt  and  enlarged,  the  proscenium  open- 
ing was  only  twenty-five  feet  wide,  the  distance 
between  the  curtain-hne  and  the  back  wall  was  only 
twenty-three  feet,  and  a  "forty-foot  drop"  could 
not  be  used  on  the  stage.  Mansfield's  scenic  dis- 
play, accordingly,  was  mutilated.  His  performance 
of  the  Jew,  which  is  described  and  commemorated 
elsewhere  in  this  memoir,  wliile,  necessarily,  it  lacked 
clarity  and  completeness,  was  remarkable  for  sus- 
tained vigor  and  for  points  of  exceptional  merit. 
The  presentment,  however,  as  a  whole,  was  inade- 
quate, and  it  did  not  arouse  the  ardent  enthusiasm 
that  he  had  expected  it  to  inspire.  My  profes- 
sional duty  as  a  dramatic  reviewer  was  minutely, 
thoughtfully,  and  zealously  fulfilled,  and  Mansfield's 
acting  of  Shyloch  received  at  my  hands  a  liberal 
measure  of  sympathetic  recognition.  He  thought 
otherwise;  he  decided  that  he  had  been  treated 
with  malicious  injustice;  "deserted";  "neglected"; 
"persecuted";  "damned!"    His  letters  to  me  became 


Photoijraph  h.n  Windoir  and  drove,  London 

ELLEN  TERRY  AS  PORTIA 


HARD    WORDS  193 

insufferable,  and,  at  last,  I  felt  constrained  to 
request  him  not  to  write  to  me  again.  "A  friend 
should  bear  a  friend's  infirmities,"  but  there  are  times 
when  the  most  inveterate  patience  tires.  Mansfield 
had  been  driven  into  a  sort  of  frenzy,  by  failures, 
disappointments,  care,  and  incipient  sickness.  The 
following  is  a  mild  specimen  of  his  epistolary  pro- 
ductions at  that  time,  addressed  to  me: 

.  .  .  Damn  your  criticisms !  No  man  can  keep  me  back 
for  long!  You  can  injure  my  pocket,  and  you  certainly  have — 
on  occasions !  I  had  a  deuce  of  a  time  getting  our  only 
patrons,  the  Jews,  to  come  and  see  "The  Merchant,"  because 
you  made  me  out  a  fiend  and  a  vulture.  $8,000  more  of 
my  hard-earned  dollars  gone;  and  you  impractical  Devil — 
what  do  I — am  I — can  I,  live  on?  Air?  Do  you  think  I  am 
eternally  to  sweat  and  labor  for  no  earthly  return?    .    .    . 

I  have  been  harassed  and  worried  and  hounded,  beyond  all 
endurance.  It  seems  I  must  even  suffer  in  silence!  It  seems 
that  I  must  never  look  forward  to  anything  but  a  life  of 
work !    .    .    . 

Irving  has  been  feting  the  critics  here  (in  Chicago)  and  I 
have  again  found  the  trail  of  the  serpent  and  its  slime! 
I  have  even  an  accurate  and  verbatim  report  of  his  conver- 
sation with  them, — one  of  his  not  least  amazing  declarations 
being  that  he  is  to  present  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  in 
London.  That  being  the  play  in  which  I  should  make  my 
re-entree  there,  his  Snake-ship  will,  snake-like,  forestall 
me!  ... 

In  other  letters  he  vented  his  resentment  of 
fancied  injuries,  in  language  still  more  intemperate, 


194  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

not  to  say  vituperative.  He  had  not,  in  fact,  been 
represented  as  either  "a  fiend"  or  "a  vulture,"  in 
his  performance  of  Shylock.  On  the  contrary,  his 
ideal  of  the  part,  in  so  far  as  it  could  be  clearly 
discerned,  had  been  designated  as  correct,  and  por- 
tions of  his  expression  of  it  had  been  highly  extolled, 
— as  they  deserved  to  be.  It  had  not,  however, 
been  stated  that  he  made  Shakespeare's  Jew  a  noble, 
righteous,  virtuous,  admirable,  sympathetic  person, 
whom  the  Hebrew  inhabitants  of  the  country  should 
eagerly  hasten  to  behold;  and  eventually  I  learned 
that  the  omission  of  some  such  testimony  as  that  was 
his  principal  "grievance."  If  he  had  so  represented 
Shylock  his  performance  would  have  deserved,  and 
would  have  received,  explicit  condemnation,  for  the 
Jew  of  "The  Merchant  of  Venice"  is  a  specious, 
treacherous,  mahgnant,  bloody-minded  person,  and 
all  theories  that  conceive  of  liim  as  anything  else 
are  chimerical, — ^being  unwarranted  by  the  text  of 
the  play.  At  one  time,  long  ago,  I  was  misled,  in 
the  study  of  that  subject,  by  the  ingenious  com- 
mentaries of  Ludwig  Borne  and  Victor  Hugo,  and 
by  various  old  records,  such  as  those  wliich  glow- 
ingly commemorate  the  acting,  in  Shylock,  of  such 
chieftains  as  Edmund  Kean  and  James  William 
Wallack.  Shakespeare's  text  is  the  only  true  guide, 
and   it   leads,   inevitably,   to    a   different    and   very 


"REALISM"  195 

clear  conclusion.  It  is,  unquestionably,  true  that 
an  actor  who  would  evoke  public  sympathy  with 
Shylock  must  emphasize  a  human  side  of  the  char- 
acter, and  that  is  what  Mansfield,  probably,  intended 
to  do,  and  thought  that  he  had  done.  What  he 
actually  did,  however,  was  to  present  Shylock,  sub- 
stantially, in  the  manner  that  is  prescribed  by  the 
Jew's  words  and  deeds,  and  by  the  words  and  deeds 
of  persons  who  are  associated  with  liim, — blurring 
his  performance,  from  time  to  time,  by  an  incon- 
gruous effort  to  arouse  compassion. 

An  objectionable  feature  of  Mansfield's  assump- 
tion of  Shylocky  as  first  displayed,  was  realism  of 
treatment :  at  the  words,  for  example,  with  which  the 
Jew  greets  Antonio,  "Your  worship  was  the  last 
man  in  our  mouths,"  he  expressed  Shylock's  "loath- 
ing" for  the  Merchant  by  literally  spitting  upon 
the  stage, — a  kind  of  "business"  of  which  he  then 
approved,  but  in  the  customary  use  of  which  he, 
happily,  did  not  persist.  He  was  versatile  and 
ingenious  in  his  artistic  method,  from  the  first,  but 
it  was  not  until  he  had  matured  his  art,  by  years  of 
practical  experience,  that  he  discarded, — in  so  far  as 
he  ever  did  discard, — the  expedients  of  reahsm. 
In  giving  his  first  performance  of  "Dr.  Jekyll 
and  Mr.  Hyde,"  for  example, — when  that  play 
was  produced  in  Boston    (1887), — at  the  moment. 


196  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

in  the  first  act,  when  Hyde  leaps  upon  Sir  Danvers 
Carew,  hurls  him  to  the  floor,  and  strangles  him, 
Mansfield  lost  control  of  himself  and  so  maltreated 
the  representative  of  Sir  Danvers^  the  late  Mr. 
Boyd  Putnam  (1865-1908),  that  the  injured  victim 
of  realism  fainted,  repeatedly,  and  was  with  diffi- 
culty recovered.  At  another  point  in  the  same  play, 
when  Hyde  interrogates  the  hag,  Rebecca  Moore, 
as  to  the  personal  appearance  of  a  man  who  has 
called  to  see  him,  Mansfield  suddenly  turned  up 
toward  her  a  distorted,  hideous,  diabolical  counte- 
nance, and,  growhng  forth  the  inquiry,  "Like  me?'\ 
druled  at  the  mouth.  Such  "real"  expedients  are 
not  only  unnecessary  but  unartistic.  Acting  is  not 
Nature,  but  the  imitation  of  Nature.  "Real  tears," 
for  instance,  which  some  players  can  readily  pro- 
duce, are  not  effective,  unless  they  are  perfectly 
controlled.  When  blows  are  given,  the  semblance 
of  a  blow  is  all  that  is  required.  Many  years  ago 
that  raw,  crude,  boisterous  actor,  John  Wilkes 
Booth,  who  had  heard  of  some  of  the  crazy  actions 
of  his  father,  the  great  Junius,  and  thought  they 
should  be  imitated,  drove  an  antagonist  in  a  stage 
conflict  completely  over  the  foothghts  and  into  the 
orchestra  pit.  His  brother,  Edwin  Booth,  on  the 
contrary,  one  of  the  greatest  artists  that  have  adorned 
the  stage, — and,  specifically,  the  greatest  tragedian 


ARTISTIC    GROWTH  197 

of  his  time, — when  he  had  occasion  to  strike  a  blow, 
seemed  to  dehver  a  stroke  that  was  tremendous,  but, 
in  fact,  when  his  hand  touched  a  confederate  actor 
the  actual  touch  was  as  soft  as  velvet.  That  process 
illustrates  acting.  Art  is  free  from  extravagance;  is 
the  product  of  perfect  self-control.  Mansfield  was 
slow  in  learning  that  truth,  but  he  did  learn  it, 
and,  to  a  large  extent,  his  mature  acting  exemplified 
it.  Indeed,  a  gradual  progress  of  development, 
such  as  attends  the  experience  of  all  fine  actors, 
was  especially  notable  in  his  acting.  Every  part  that 
he  played  was  polished  by  continuous  work  upon 
its  details  and  in  the  process  of  repetition.  His 
style  grew  more  and  more  refined  as  the  years 
passed  and  as  experience  broadened  his  view  and 
chastened  his  taste.  His  ambition,  furthermore,  was 
not  deadened  by  either  disappointment,  trouble, 
sickness,  or  sorrow.  Had  his  life  and  health  been 
spared  a  little  longer  he  would  have  attempted  the 
great  characters  of  Macbeth  and  King  Lear,  and 
it  is  not  unreasonable  to  believe  that,  in  those  colossal 
fabrics  of  imagination  and  feeling,  he  would  have 
gained  substantial  and  lasting  renown. 

"Damn  your  criticisms,"  it  has  been  noted,  was  his 
fervent  ejaculation  on  finding  that  his  SJiyloch  had 
not  been  hailed  as  a  heavenly  Hebrew  father,  and, 
especially,  had  not  been  acclaimed  as  superior  to 


198  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

the  Shyloch  of  Irving.  His  propensity  to  brood 
upon  what  he  considered  malign  influence  pro- 
ceeding from  that  foreign  actor  was  now  much 
intensified,  and  it  kept  him  in  a  continual  state 
of  seething  exasperation.  In  this  he  was  singu- 
larly unfortunate  and  radically  mistaken.  Irving, 
many  years  older  than  Mansfield,  had  earned  and 
gained  the  leadership  of  the  English  stage,  and 
had  obtained  international  renown,  before  Mans- 
field's star  arose,  and,  at  the  time  when  they  met, 
he  was  at  the  summit  of  a  great  and  abundantly 
prosperous  career.  He  never  considered  Mansfield 
as  a  rival,  any  more  than  Edwin  Booth  did,  and 
he  would  not  have  tried  to  injure  him  or  to  thwart 
his  progress,  even  if  he  had  so  considered  him. 
Mansfield  had  planned  to  act  Richard  the  Third, 
before  resolving  to  go  to  London,  and  his  present- 
ment of  that  tragedy  in  the  British  capital, — an 
expensive  enterprise, — was  not  undertaken  by  advice 
of  Irving  or  of  anybody  else,  but  solely  by  liis 
own  will,  and  the  outcome  of  his  London  season, 
1888-'89,  first  at  the  Lyceum  and  afterward  at 
the  Globe,— the  loss,  that  is  to  say,  of  $167,000,— 
was  not  due  to  the  hostile  machinations  of  any 
indi\adual  or  any  combination  of  individuals,  but 
to  the  simple,  decisive  fact,  which  is  the  cause  of  all 
theatrical  disasters,  that  the  pubhc  did  not  award  to 


BICKERING  199 

his  costly  productions  that  amount  of  practical  sup- 
port which  was  imperatively  necessary  for  the  pay- 
ment of  his  large  expenses.  When  he  left  England, 
in  1889,  he  was  in  debt  to  Irving,  and  it  seems  to 
have  been  his  conviction  that  his  lack  of  sulSicient 
public  patronage  had  been  caused  by  the  insidious 
hostility  of  that  actor.  The  notion  was  as  deplor- 
able as  it  was  fallacious,  and,  eventually,  it  caused 
much  unhappiness.  Mansfield  was  impulsive,  and, 
when  excited,  prone  to  reckless  speech.  There  is 
no  reason  to  doubt  that  he  believed  what  he  said, 
at  the  time  he  said  it,  when  he  attributed  his  ill- 
fortune  to  enmity  on  the  part  of  Irving;  but  he 
had  no  reason  to  believe  it,  his  talk  was  wild,  and 
more  than  once,  after  his  arrival  home,  in  1889, 
I  besought  him  to  restrain  liis  words,  to  discard  his 
delusion,  and  to  make  all  possible  haste  in  the  settle- 
ment of  the  Lyceum  business.  That  counsel  he  then 
received  in  kindness:  "I  will,  and  have  borne  in 
mind  all  you  say  about  Irving"  (so  he  wrote, 
October  25,  1889)  ;  "I  will  have  none  but  the  kind- 
est feelings:  the  business  part  of  it  shall  be  attended 
to  at  once."  His  sensible  resolution  did  not  prevail 
over  his  fretful  ill-humor.  He  continued  to  inveigh 
against  the  phantom  foe  of  his  angry  fancy.  His 
censorious  words  drifted  to  Irving's  knowledge, — 
calumny,  as  usual,  being  carried  by  "the  birds  of 


200  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

the  air," — and  that  actor  (a  loyal  friend  and  a  "good 
hater"),  bitterly  resentful  of  injustice,  retaliated  by 
taking  legal  steps  for  the  recovery  of  the  money  that 
Mansfield  owed  to  him,  and  also  by  purchase,  from 
the  London  publishers,  of  the  rights  to  use  the 
story  of  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  on  the  Eng- 
hsh  stage.  The  debt  was  paid.  Mansfield,  much 
as  he  sometimes  grumbled  and  vapored,  never 
intended  to  wrong  Irving,  or  to  wrong  anybody 
else.  The  following  entry,  copied  from  the  Ledger 
of  the  London  Lyceum  Theatre,  appears  in  the 
copious,  minute,  interesting  "Life  of  Henry  Irving," 
by  Austin  Brereton: 


£1675  lef 
Also  £1000  Lo 

;  owing  by 
an. 

loan  and 
rent  and 
law    fees . 

Mr.  Mar 

interest . 
interest, 

sfield  for  rent. 

.£1180  16     8 
.£1476  14  10 

£2675. 
1894  Recv'd 
1896  Recv'd 
Less 

£2675 

11 

6 

The  good  news  of  the  adjustment  of  tliis  affair,  by 
the  removal  of  an  irksome  cause  of  mutual  dis- 
content, was  communicated  to  me  by  Mansfield,  and 
was  recognized  with  these  words: 


AS    TO    FRIENDSHIP  201 

I  received  your  letter,  this  day,  about  your  relations  with 
Mr.  Irving.  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  the  money  is  paid 
and  the  business  part  of  it  settled.  Perhaps  you  and  he  will, 
one  day,  understand  each  other.  I  hope  so.  I  never  heard 
him  say  an  ill  word  of  you.  I  wish  that  the  papers  had  not 
represented  you  as  saying  hard  words  of  him.  It  is  a  great 
pity  that  two  men,  whom  God  has  blessed  with  such  genius, 
and  such  power  for  the  good  of  the  stage  and  society,  should 
not  agree,  and  get  on  in  kindness.  But,  in  Heaven's  name, 
never  open  your  lips  about  him  again,  for  any  paper  to  hear! 

W.  W. 

It  was,  for  a  time,  one  of  Mansfield's  erroneous 
impressions,  of  which  he  had  many,  that  my  views, 
not  only  of  his  acting  but  of  the  acting  of  other  mem- 
bers of  the  stage,  were  fashioned  and  guided  by 
friendship.  A  word  on  that  subject,  personal  to 
myself,  will  not,  perhaps,  be  considered  inappropri- 
ate. I  have  been  a  writer  about  the  sta^e  for  more 
than  half-a-century.  In  the  course  of  that  time  I 
have  discussed  the  performances  of  hundreds  of 
actors  and  have  written  many  columns  of  recognition 
and  of  praise;  but  I  have  never  written  a  line  of 
praise  that  I  did  not  believe  to  be  deserved,  and  I 
have  never  written  a  word  of  commendation  of  any 
person  because  I  was  fond  of  that  person  or  because 
that  person  was  fond  of  me.  I  have  never  sought 
the  friendship  of  any  person,  nor  have  I  ever  been 
influenced  by  it.  I  have  had  friends:  most  of  them 
are  dead:  but  their  affection  has  been  mine, — for 


202  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

which  I  am  profoundly  grateful, — not  because  it 
was  solicited,  and  not  because  they  thought  they 
had  anything  to  gain  by  it,  but  because,  out  of 
their  goodness  and  gentleness,  they  were  pleased  to 
bestow  that  blessing  upon  me,  and  thus  to  brighten 
my  life.  Some  observers  maintain  that  the  profes- 
sional critic  of  acting  cannot  write  impartially  about 
actors  if  he  is  personally  acquainted  with  them.  To 
me  it  has  always  seemed  that  accurate  personal 
knowledge  of  the  actor  is  distinctly  propitious  to 
an  ample  and  minute  appreciation  of  the  acting. 
Each  observer  must  judge  for  himself.  It  is  the 
chief  privilege  of  the  critic  to  recognize,  to  foster, 
and  to  encourage.  The  necessity  may,  and  sometimes 
does,  arise  for  explicit  censure,  but  the  most  salutary 
province  of  criticism  is  commendation, — that  thought- 
ful, rational,  kindly  treatment  of  artistic  endeavor 
which  tends  to  help.  During  a  lifetime  of  literary 
service  to  the  Dramatic  Art  I  have  labored  in 
accordance  with  that  conviction, — knowing  many 
actors, — and  I  am  wishful  to  believe  that  I  have 
not  labored  in  vain.  A  man  who  occupies  a  posi- 
tion of  critical  responsibility  to  the  public  must, 
it  seems  to  me,  be  signally  deficient  of  individual 
character  if  he  supposes  that  he  cannot  write  the 
truth  about  acting  when  the  actor  happens  to  be  a 
personal   friend.      I   was    fond   of   Mansfield,    and 


CRITICAL    ATTITUDE  203 

frequently  I  commended  his  acting;  not  because  of 
friendship  for  the  man,  but  for  the  simple,  suffi- 
cient, imperative  reason  that  frequently  his  acting 
was  good,  and  sometimes  it  was  magnificent.  On 
the  other  hand  I  never  hesitated  to  condemn  his 
faults;  and,  although  he  was  resentful,  angry,  and 
acrimonious,  in  response  to  censure,  I  retained  his 
friendship  till  his  death.  In  writing  this  biography, 
which,  necessarily,  involves  many  intimate  personal 
recollections  and  impartments,  I  have  found  it 
impossible  to  avoid  reference  to  myself,  and  for  that 
I  would  ask  the  reader's  indulgence.  The  famihar 
quotation  from  Virgil  is  not  irrelevant:  "Quceque 
ipse  misserrima  vidi,  et  quorum  pars  magna  fid." 
Whenever  Mansfield  merited  praise, — and  that  was 
often, — he  always  received  it,  from  at  least  one  pen. 
When  he  made  himself  amenable  to  censure  he  did 
not  escape  from  it.  By  some  writers  he  was  slan- 
dered and  traduced.  By  some  he  was  misunderstood 
and  was  treated  without  appreciation  if  not  with 
willful  injustice.  His  habit  of  indiscreet  speech  was 
known,  so  that  sometimes  even  his  nearest  friends 
were  constrained  to  trust  the  authenticity  of  splenetic 
remarks  purporting  to  have  been  made  by  him. 
Thus,  when  a  regular  dispatch  from  a  Western 
city  had  reported  him  as  having  indulged  in  con- 
temptuous abuse  and  condemnation   of  a  contem- 


204  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

porary  actor,  with  whom  he  was  known  to  be  at 
variance,  the  following  article,  written  by  me,  was 
pubhshed  on  the  editorial  page  of  "The  New  York 
Tribune": 

MR.  Mansfield's  wrath. 

Mr.  Richard  Mansfield's  recent  colloquy  with  himself,  at 
Cincinnati,  was  conceited,  rude,  ill-bred,  and  foolish,  but  there 
is  a  comic  side  to  it.  "What  is  Irving.?"  asked  Mr.  Mansfield; 
and,  himself  responding  to  his  inquiry,  he  replied  "He  is  no 
better  actor  than  I  am."  This  recalls  one  of  the  Ellenborough 
anecdotes.  "Now,  my  lords,"  said  Lord  Westmoreland,  "I  asked 
myself  a  question."  "Yes,"  said  Ellenborough,  unconsciously 
murmuring  his  thought,  "and  a  damned  stupid  answer  you'd  be 
sure  to  get  to  it."  Mr.  Mansfield's  answer,  however,  is  doubt- 
less satisfactory  to  himself. 

Persons  who  have  observed  and  studied  the  stage  for  a 
longer  period  than  Mr.  Mansfield  has  lived  would  answer  his 
question  in  a  very  different  manner.  They  would  tell  him  that 
Henry  Irving  is  a  great  actor — one  of  the  greatest  actors  that 
have  ever  appeared,  and  the  best  stage  manager  of  whom  there 
is  any  record  in  the  history  of  the  English  Drama.  They  would 
say,  furthermore,  that  Mr.  Irving  is  not  only  a  better  actor  than 
Mr.  Mansfield,  but  so  much  a  better  actor  that  no  comparison 
between  them  is  for  a  moment  possible,  and  that  nobody  but 
Mr.  Mansfield  himself  would  think  of  making  it.  They  would 
add  that  Mr.  Irving,  since  he  leased  the  London  Lyceum 
Theatre,  has,  perhaps,  done  more  than  any  man  of  our  time 
to  maintain  a  high  standard  in  dramatic  matters  and  to  educate 
and  advance  the  public  taste — his  sole  rival  in  that  good  work 
being,  not  Richard  Mansfield,  but  Augustin  Daly.  And  they 
would  take  the  liberty  to  mention  that  when  Mr.  Mansfield 
stigmatizes  Mr.  Irving  as  "a  stage  mountebank,"  and  as  "a 
theatrical  diplomat,"  whose  professional  conduct  "savors  of  the 


SILLY   WRATH  205 

actress  who  'loses'  her  diamonds  once  a  year,"  he  insults  the 
intelligence  of  the  community  and  stultifies  his  own. 

Explosions  of  petty  spite  and  silly  wrath  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Mansfield  have  become  too  frequent.  He  should  be  told, 
and  he  ought  to  remember,  that  it  is  equally  unmanly  and  sense- 
less for  anybody  to  growl  and  grumble  because  other  persons 
do  not  accept  him  at  his  own  valuation  of  himself.  The  way 
to  win  admiration  is  to  deserve  it,  and  to  go  on  deserving  it, 
whether  it  is  accorded  or  not.  Abler  men  than  Mr.  Mansfield 
have  gone  through  the  world,  doing  their  best,  and  deserving 
fortune  and  homage, — and  have  died  unrecognized  and  unre- 
warded. Mr.  Mansfield's  rare  abilities,  on  the  contrary,  have 
been  acknowledged  and  applauded  everywhere,  and  the  only 
thing  that  has  ever  stood  in  his  way  is  his  inveterate  propensity 
to  carp  and  snarl  at  other  persons.  He  cannot  injure  Mr. 
Irving.  His  hysterical  ebullitions  only  injure  himself.  When 
"the  boys"  in  a  Western  settlement  were  riding  a  sap-headed 
young  clergyman  out  of  the  place  on  a  rail,  the  ringleader 
summarized  the  situation  with  one  brief  but  expressive  remark: 
"We  ain't  agin'  religion  here,"  he  said,  "but  we  do  hate  to  see 
a  cuss  spilin'  it!" 


Indignant  denial,  by  Mansfield,  that  he  had  ever 
spoken  the  words  attributed  to  liim,  promptly  fol- 
lowed the  publication  of  that  article.  The  spirit  of 
those  words,  as  well  as  the  words  themselves,  was 
exactly  accordant  with  the  spirit  of  words  that  I 
heard  him  speak,  in  general  company,  and  had 
earnestly  asked  liim  never  to  utter,  because  alike 
unwarranted,  undignified,  and  wrong.  Then,  as 
always,  though,  it  was  my  earnest  desire  that  he 
should   be   justly    and   kindly    treated,    and   there- 


206  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

fore,  upon  receipt  of  his  denial,  I  wrote  and  pub- 
lished an  article,  of  wliich  this  is  the  essential  part: 

It  is  an  old  established  principle  that  nothing  is  ever  settled 
luitil  it  is  settled  aright.  Mr.  Mansfield  repudiates,  in  explicit 
terms,  the  language  ascribed  to  him  in  the  press  dispatch  from 
Cincinnati  that  was  published  in  this  journal,  and  later  was 
made  the  subject  of  editorial  comment.  Mr.  Mansfield  declares 
that  the  interview  designated  in  that  dispatch  never  occurred, 
and  that  the  words  attributed  to  him  were  never  spoken.  Under 
those  circumstances  the  strictures  on  Mr.  Mansfield  were  not 
warranted. 

It  is  just,  however,  to  say  that  the  Cincinnati  dispatch 
appeared,  on  the  face  of  it,  to  be  authentic,  and  that  belief  in  it 
was  natural.  Publications,  signed  with  Mr.  Mansfield's  name, 
are  in  existence,  expressing  his  disfavor  toward  foreign  actors, 
and,  during  several  years,  the  newspapers,  in  different  parts 
of  the  country  have,  from  time  to  time,  contained  accounts 
of  speeches  and  conversations,  wherein  Mr.  Mansfield  has 
appeared  as  a  person  with  a  grievance.  .  .  .  Reputation 
affects  belief.  If,  for  example,  the  language  ascribed  to  Mr. 
Mansfield  had  been  imputed  to  Mr.  Jefferson  it  would  have 
been  discredited  at  once,  as  preposterous  and  absurd.  Alleged 
as  the  utterance  of  Mr.  Mansfield  it  seemed  credible,  because 
it  was  harmonious  with  antecedent  publications.   .    .    . 

Duquesne  Theatre,  Pittsburg,  Pa. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  thank  you,  with  all  my  heart,  for  the  more  than  "amende 
honorable."    .    .    . 

You  are  perfectly  right — that  I  have  felt  sore  and  that 
to  you,  as  an  old  friend,  I  have  often  unburdened  myself. 
That  is  no  reason  why  I  should  do  so  in  Public.  Moreover, 
I  have  grown  wise  in  my  generation. 

Do  you  fancy  I  really  had  no  cause  for  anger?     I  suffered 


MISREPRESENTED  207 

a  loss  of  $167,000 — actual  figures.  I  was  not  fairly  treated, 
and  Mr.  Irving's  last  action  was  to  buy  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr. 
Hyde,"  to  prevent  me  from  playing  it  in  London.  He  also 
caused  me  to  be  attached,  in  a  small  New  England  town,  late 
on  a  Saturday  night.  I  have  paid  him  every  cent  I  owe  him. 
I  forgive  him  any  intentional  or  unintentional  harm  he  may 
have  done  me. 

I  have  been — I  was,  his  most  devoted  friend,  his  ardent 
admirer.  I  believed  in  him  implicitly.  I  have  bestowed  upon 
him  many  gifts  and  tokens  of  friendship.  He  accepted  every- 
thing coldly,  and  never  made  any  return.  I  am  hasty  and 
quick-tempered — but  I  harm  only  myself.  I  would  rather  be 
so,  than  cold,  calculating,  and  insincere. 

Even  the  St.  Louis  speech,  so  much  referred  to  recently, 
was  an  outrageous  fake.  I  made  but  one  speech,  which  was 
forced  upon  me — the  audience  would  not  have  it  otherwise. 
There  was  not  one  serious  word  in  that  speech;  it  was  entirely 
comic,  and  accepted  as  such  by  the  audience.  Some  cad, 
three  days  afterward,  published,  to  our  utter  amazement  and 
consternation,  a  series  of  remarks,  purporting  to  have  been 
uttered  by  me,  which  were  a  string  of  ridiculous  lies.  Upon 
these  the  New  York  papers  commented  seriously. 

I  have  written  to  Irving — I  ought  to  write  to  Tree.  I  have 
abused  neither  of  these  men.  They  are  welcome  to  all  the 
honor  and  glory  and  money  they  can  acquire.  .  i^^-"" 

Always 

Richard  Mansfield. 


Pittsburgh,  Penna. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  can  only  at  this  moment  thank  you  for  your  generous  let- 
ter. I  read  for  the  first  time  the  press  dispatch  from  Cincin- 
nati. The  scoundrels  must  have  simply  manufactured  it,  for  it 
has  not  even  the  basis  of  truth  which  some  equally  dangerous 
but  garbled   reported   interviews   and   speeches   possess,  and    I 


208  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

can't  imagine  how  anybody  could  really  believe  that  I  talked 
like  a  fish-wife. 

Certainly  I  have  spoken  and  written  to  you  in  a  mood  of 
bitterness.  You,  who  are  a  poet  and  must  have  a  poet's  moods, 
best  know  how  the  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune  torture  a 
man's  mind,  and  how  an  enfeebled  constitution  and  a  nerve- 
racked  frame  will  make  a  fellow  shriek,  as  hope  after  hope 
and  ambition  after  ambition  is  thwarted,  and  fades,  and  dies. 
But  I  do  not  talk  cheap  trash  like  a  common   scold. 

You  are  quite  right  about  Jefferson — nobody  would  believe 
that  he  had  said  anything  of  the  kind.  But  there  is  this  dif- 
ference— that  /  produce  four  or  five  plays  a  year,  and  have 
spent  thousands  on  new  and  old  plays,  such  as  "Richard"  and 
"Nero" — and  that  I  am  striving,  striving,  studying,  and  have 
been  starving.  Mr.  Jefferson  is  a  dear,  lovely  fellow,  who  likes 
a  small  company  and  a  jog  trot.     Every  man  to  his  taste, 

Irving  is  twenty  years  my  senior.  I  admire  him  very  much; 
I  am,  personally,  his  friend,  and  if  he  needed  my  friendship  he 
could  have  it,  and  every  copper  I  am  likely  to  make,  to  back 
it  up.  Politically  I  am  his  opponent.  He  does  not  believe  in 
Reciprocity.  I  do.  I  think  it's  an  infernal  shame  that  a  man 
who  has  won  his  spurs  in  this  country  should  not  be  esteemed  a 
Knight  in  England — that  it  should  be  a  practical  impossibility 
to  make  a  dollar   over  there,    .     .     . 

I  like  all  these  fellows — I  am  still  fond  of  Irving:  but  I  do 
think  there  should  be  a  fair,  square  chance  all  roiuid.  Basta — 
that's  all.  Let  the  dead  bury  the  dead.  .  .  .  Talking  of  the 
dead,  Sol  Smith  Russell  is  here  and  has  got  "The  Heir  at 
Law"  by  the  ears  and  is  galvanizing  the  old  fellow  "with  songs 
contributed  by  Mr.  Joseph  Jefferson!"  Has  Jefferson  been 
warbling,   too  ? 

We  nearly  died  over  your  review  of  "Mr.  John  A.  Dreams," 
and  "Mr,  Titus  A.  Peep."  I  marked  it  as  coming  from  your 
pen,  and  dispatched  it  at  once  to  Bernard  Shaw.    .    .    . 

Beatrice  has  gone  to  New  York.  You'll  find  her  at  104  West 
80th  Street.     I  shall  be  there  Sunday  evening.     At  the  house 


THE    FOREIGN    ACTOR  209 

there  is  a  high-backed  chair,  in  which  Cardinal  Borgia  was  wont 
to  disport  himself,  which  now  belongs  to  you,  and  in  tire  theatre 
there  will  also  be  a  chair  which  will  have  "W.  W."  beautifully 
embroidered  upon  its  back. 

When  you  write  scathing  editorials  about  me,  please  recol- 
lect that  it  is  simple  madness  to  nourish  and  cherish  a  plant, 
and  watch  it,  and  water  it,  and  whiskey  it,  and  so  forth  and 
so  forth  and  so  forth — and,  just  as  it  shows  promise  of  blos- 
soming, to  j  ump  upon  it  with  both  heels !  Why,  more  than 
half  such  success  as  I  enjoy  is  born  of  you,  and  doesn't 
everybody  know  it?  Wretched  man!  you  have  brought  forth 
a  Frankenstein ! ! 

Ever  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


It  is  not  unreasonable,  certainly  it  is  not  unnatural, 
that  the  American  actor  following  his  vocation  on  the 
American  stage,  should  be  discontented,  when  he 
finds  himself  neglected  and,  at  the  same  time,  per- 
ceives that  the  foreign  actor  is  extravagantly  admired 
and  la\ishly  rewarded.  The  provincialism  or  the 
snobbery  which,  for  many  years,  in  America,  has 
accepted  and  acclaimed  the  acting  of  foreign  per- 
formers,— especially  those  speaking  French  or  Ital- 
ian,— often  for  no  better  reason  than  because  it  is 
foreign,  may  well  have  been  a  cause  of  disgust  and 
resentment  to  American  actors  of  proved  ability  and 
worth.  It  would,  however,  be  unjust  and  deplorably 
illiberal  to  oppose  the  advent,  upon  our  stage,  of 
foreign  actors  of  authentic  talent  and  renown,  only 


210  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

because  they  are  foreign.  Mansfield  was  inclined, 
in  this  matter,  to  apply  the  doctrine  of  Protection. 
On  December  31,  1900,  he  said,  in  "The  New  York 
Herald"; 

"...  We  have  no  stage  in  America.  The  American  stage 
is  the  stage  for  all  stages.  Everybody  comes  here,  and  every- 
body is  welcome.  Herein  lies  the  difference  between  New  York 
and  Paris  and  London  and  other  foreign  capitals.  Foreign 
actors  make  a  great  deal  of  money  in  America.  It  would  be 
difficult  for  an  American  actor  to  make  any  money  in  London, 
or  Berlin,  or  Vienna,  or  St.  Petersburgh.  American  stage 
craft  is  not  honored  abroad.  It  should  be.  Concerning  art, 
the  American  is  neither  patriotic  nor  exclusive.  The  foreigner 
is.   .    .    ." 

That  is  hardly  a  just  or  an  accurate  view  of  the 
subject.  Old  civilizations,  indeed,  are,  naturally, 
conservative:  they  know,  and  they  instinctively 
remember,  that  certain  great  things  in  art  have  been 
thoroughly  and  perfectly  done,  and  they  are  not 
readily  moved  to  enthusiasm  about  newcomers:  but 
American  actors  have  been  received  with  acclama- 
tion in  European  cities,  and  have  been  practically 
rewarded  as  well  as  honored  there;  and  therefore 
the  statement  that  no  reciprocity  of  art  exists 
between  Europe  and  America  is  incorrect.  Edwin 
Forrest  prospered  in  Great  Britain.  So  did  James 
H.  Hackett.  Charlotte  Cushman,  who  went  to 
London  in  1844  (with  a  capital  of  less  than  $500), 


RECIPROCITY  211 

was  successful  there.  Success  attended  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Harry  Watkins,  Mr.  and  JNIrs.  Barney  Williams, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  J.  Florence.  Jefferson's 
"stage  craft"  was  not  only  admired  but  liberally 
rewarded  abroad.  Indeed,  his  great  personation  of 
Rip  Van  Winkle  was  recognized  at  its  true  value 
in  London  before  it  was  in  New  York.  Jefferson 
first  acted  Rip,  in  Boucicault's  greatly  improved 
version  of  the  earlier  play,  at  the  London  Adelphi 
Theatre,  September  4,  1865,  when  the  representation 
was  much  commended;  and  he  again  acted  the  part 
in  London,  at  the  Princess's  Theatre,  from  Novem- 
ber 1,  1875,  to  April  29,  1876.  John  McCullough 
was  heartily  welcomed  in  England.  ]Mary  Ander- 
son's career  on  the  British  stage  was,  in  every 
way,  one  continuous  triumph:  "The  Winter's  Tale," 
for  example  (first  produced  by  her  at  Nottingham, 
April  23,  1887),  occupied  the  stage  of  the  Lon- 
don Lyceum,  without  interruption,  from  September 
10,  1887,  to  March  24,  1888.  Lawrence  Barrett, 
who  gained  fame,  would  also  have  gained  money, 
in  London,  but  for  the  death  of  a  member  of  the 
English  royal  family,  which  caused  a  mourning 
court  and  deterred  his  peculiar  audience  from  the 
theatre.  Edwin  Booth,  who  made  three  ventures  in 
England,  speaking  about  liis  reception  on  the 
British  stage,  said  (June,  1881) :  "I  was  never  more 


212  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

heartily  received  than  by  the  audience  drawn  together 
when  I  played  in  London.  I  have  had  a  most 
dehghtful  experience,  socially,  professionally,  and  in 
every  respect,  with  the  exception  of  the  unfortunate 
illness  of  my  wife.  .  .  .  My  engagement  with  Irving 
was  one  of  the  most  agreeable  I  ever  played.  He  is 
one  of  the  most  delightful  men  I  ever  met;  always 
obliging,  and  always  kind  in  every  possible 
way.  ..."  Ada  Rehan,  who  was  introduced  upon 
the  British  stage  by  Augustin  Daly  (at  Toole's 
Theatre,  London,  July  19,  1884),  became  as  great  a 
favorite  there  as  even  the  admired  Helen  Faucit  had 
been,  and,  as  long  as  she  continued  to  act,  main- 
tained an  equal  position  with  that  of  Ellen  Terry, 
the  leading  English  actress  of  her  time.  Miss  Rehan 
was  also  successful  in  Berhn,  Hamburg,  and  Paris, 
where  she  filled  three  engagements.  Augustin  Daly 
built  and  managed  Daly's  Theatre  (opened  June 
27,  1893)  in  London,  and  was  decisively  successful 
there;  for  example,  "Twelfth  Night,"  with  which  he 
opened  that  house,  was  acted  one  hundred  and  eleven 
times,  and  in  the  same  season  "The  School  for  Scan- 
dal" was  acted  more  than  fifty  times.  On  the  Con- 
tinental stage  a  large  acceptance  of  acting  in  the 
English  language  could  hardly  be  expected;  yet 
Edwin  Booth  was  received  in  the  cities  of  Germany 
with   greater   homage   than   had   ever   been   shown 


EDWIN  BOOTH   IX   1883 


BOOTH    IN    GERMANY  213 

toward  him,  even  by  the  most  friendly  pubhc  of 
his  native  land!  At  Berlin  he  received  a  silver 
wreath  of  laurel  leaves  inscribed: 

"To  Edwin  Booth,  the  unrivalled  Tragedian,  in  kind  remem- 
brance of  his  first  engagement  in  Germany,  January  and 
February,  1883.  Presented  by  the  Directors  and  the  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  the  Residenz  Theatre." 

At  Hamburg  the  actors  gave  him  a  branch  of  sil- 
ver bay  leaves, — the  veteran  Herr  Formes  making 
the  presentation  speech.  At  Bremen  the  actors 
expressed  their  admiration  by  giving  him  a  silver 
crown  of  laurel.  Another  silver  wreath  was  given 
to  him  at  Leipsic.  He  was  received  with  kindred 
favor  in  Vienna.  Wherever  he  acted  his  audi- 
ences were  large  and  were  wildly  enthusiastic  in 
their  applause.  The  German  press  teemed  with 
tributes  to  his  genius.  "I  have  just  accomplished" 
(so  he  wrote  to  me,  January  11,  1883)  "the  one 
great  object  of  my  professional  aspiration.  'Tis 
after  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  I  am  very 
weary,  but  cannot  go  to  bed  ^vithout  a  line  to  you. 
When  I  am  cooler  I  will  try  to  give  you  a  full 
account  of  the  night's  work.  The  actors  as  well 
as  the  audience  were  very  enthusiastic,  many  of  the 
former  kissing  my  hands,  and  thanking  me  over  and 
over  again, — for  what   I  know  not,  unless  it  was 


214.  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

because  they  recognized  in  me  a  sincere  disciple  of 
their  idol,  Shakespeare.  ..." 

It  is  not  because  "American  stage-craft  is  not 
honored  abroad"  that  American  actors  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  earn  much  money  there.  All  actors  find  it 
difficult.  The  same  custom  of  lavish  pubhc  expendi- 
ture on  theatres  that  prevails  in  America  does  not 
prevail  in  Europe.  Irving,  the  most  greatly 
esteemed  and  widely  followed  actor  of  his  time,  on 
the  British  stage,  was  obliged  to  earn  in  America 
the  money  needful  to  maintain  his  vast  enterprises 
at  the  Lyceum,  London,  and,  speaking  before  the 
curtain  in  New  York,  he  testified  that  without  the 
generous  support  of  the  American  public  he  could 
not  have  carried  on  his  work.  Herbert  Beerbohm- 
Tree,  a  representative  London  actor  and  manager 
of  the  present  day,  has  found  it  very  difficult  to 
support  the  great  burden  of  his  theatre.  America 
is  the  best  market-place  in  the  world  for  the  actor, 
— yielding  far  larger  profits  than  can  be  obtained 
in  Europe, — but  it  does  not  follow  from  this  fact 
that  "the  foreigner  is  exclusive"  as  to  American 
actors  and  acting.  There  are  other  forces  beside 
churlishness  and  insular  prejudice  that  affect  the 
interchange  of  art  between  America  and  Europe. 

Several  months  passed  before  my  "Franken- 
stein" presented  himself  to  my  view,  and  when  at 


STORMING   THE    FORT  215 

last  he  did  appear  his  advent  was  accomplished  in 
a  manner  not  inharmonious  with  the  character  that 
he  had  playfully  assumed.  It  was  on  a  peaceful 
Sunday  morning,  in  April.  I  was,  by  chance, 
alone  in  my  somewhat  sequestered  abode,  in  Staten 
Island, — as  solitary  as  Manfred  in  his  tower,  and 
bent  on  being  quite  as  unsocial;  for  an  exacting 
literary  task  engrossed  my  thoughts  and  made  me 
impatient  of  interruption.  There  are  strange  beings 
who, — wishful  to  go  upon  the  stage,  or  to  publish 
verses,  or  to  present  plays,  or  to  reform  man- 
kind,— feel  that  nothing  can  be  done  without  a 
preliminary  conference  with  some  person  associated 
with  the  press,  and  from  those  importunate  enthu- 
siasts rigid  seclusion  provides  the  only  means  of 
escape.  It  was,  accordingly,  my  custom  to  keep 
the  doors  locked  and  to  make  no  response  to  the 
knocking  or  ringing  of  callers.  "Fast  bind"  is  a 
good  proverb,  for  others  beside  old  Shyloch.  On 
that  particular  day  I  had  determined  not  to  admit 
anybody;  whereupon,  by  perversity  of  fortune,  the 
applicants  for  admission  became  more  than  usually 
numerous, — all,  however,  unheeded,  passing  away. 
At  length,  after  a  considerable  period  of  silence, 
I  became  aware  of  a  peremptory  ringing  of  the 
bell,  succeeded  by  emphatic  blows  upon  the  front 
door.     Here,  evidently,  was  a  besieger  acquainted 


216  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

with  my  custom  of  fortification.  The  ringing  was 
resumed,  and  it  became  a  continuous  peal,  for  several 
minutes.  The  thumps  were  renewed.  Then  still- 
ness. Then  more  blows,  this  time  upon  a  door  in 
the  western  side  of  the  building.  Then,  finally,  a 
thunderous  "knocking  at  the  south  entry,"  the 
sound  of  which  reverberated  through  the  empty 
house.  About  ten  minutes  later,  the  clamor  having 
ceased,  and  the  visitant,  as  I  supposed,  departed, 
I  descended  to  my  library,  on  the  lower  floor,  in 
quest  of  a  book.  My  arrival  proved  timely.  As 
I  entered  the  room,  at  one  end  of  it,  I  saw  that 
a  window  at  the  other  end  had  been  raised,  and 
that  Mansfield,  blooming  in  fine,  fashionable  rai- 
ment, as  was  his  custom,  was  projecting  himself 
through  the  aperture,  at  the  same  time,  at  sight 
of  me,  exclaiming,  in  stentorian  tones, — rich,  hearty, 
jovial,  exultant, — "So  you  are  at  home!  I  thought 
so!  My  dear  Winter,  how  are  you?"  I  beheld  him 
with  amazement.  "Come  in,  Mansfield,"  I  said,  or 
rather  whispered — for  I  was  almost  speechless,  with 
cold.  "Come  in,"  he  shouted:  "Do  I  look  as  if 
I  were  not  coming  in?  Here  he  is,"  he  continued, 
"this  wicked  old  man;  this  old  gray  fox  that  must 
be  dug  out;  who  never  minds  his  door-bell:  he 
thought  he  could  elude  me:  he  cannot:  he  must 
listen  to  me,  for  hours  and  hours,  and  he  cannot 


PLEASANT    HOURS  217 

even  reply.  He  whispers:  he  cannot  be  heard. 
JNIiserable  man!  you  have  brought  forth  a  Franken- 
stein!" He  was  like  a  happy  boy,  abounding  in 
joyous  mischief,  and  dehghted  with  it.  We  sat 
together  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  all  the  while 
he  discoursed  to  me,  of  his  plans,  his  dreams,  his 
prospects,  his  recent  experiences,  his  friends  and 
foes  and  fancied  foes,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  his 
fortunes.  His  smile  was  winsome,  his  voice  cheery, 
his  mirth  exhilarant.  He  seemed  the  personification 
of  happiness.  He  sang  for  me.  He  mimicked  the 
faddists  of  the  hour.  He  read  aloud  from  the 
manuscript  of  his  book  of  nonsense, — afterward 
published  under  the  name  of  "Blown  Away."  He 
told  anecdotes.  He  was  at  his  best  of  geniality 
and  droll  humor.  No  man  could  be  more  engaging 
than  Mansfield  was,  as  an  entertainer,  and  that  day, 
as  I  remember  it,  he  excelled  himself.  It  was  a 
rare  occasion,  and  it  marked  the  complete  dis- 
appearance of  whatever  shadow  of  resentment 
might  have  lingered  between  us. 

The  financial  adversity  which  attended  liis  pro- 
duction of  "The  IMerchant  of  Venice"  disappointed 
and  depressed  him  so  much  that  he  abandoned  his 
design  of  producing  "Twelfth  Night,"  and  he  never 
recurred  to  it.  A  long  time  passed,  indeed,  before 
he    could   bring   himself    even   to   think    of    a   new 


218  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

venture  in  Shakespeare.  His  production  of  "Rich- 
ard III.,"  which  had  been  for  four  years  included 
in  his  repertory,  though  not  frequently  employed, 
was  again  used  in  1898,  but  it  was  not  until  1901 
that  he  once  more  raised  the  standard  of  the  great- 
est of  dramatists, — this  time  winning  a  brilliant 
victory, — with  his  magnificent  revival  of  "Henry  V." 
The  gloomy  engagement  at  Herrmann's  Theatre 
lasted  only  four  weeks  (October  9  to  November  4, 
1893),  and  Mansfield  then  made  another  tour, 
extending  far  and  wide  through  the  West  and  South. 
The  part  of  Shyloch  was  retained  in  liis  repertory, 
and  from  time  to  time  it  was  repeated.  Good 
fortune  did  not  favor  him,  though,  and  his  health, 
which  gradually  had  been  impaired  by  excessive 
exertion  and  incessant  worry,  presently  failed;  he 
broke  down,  and  for  some  time  he  was  seriously  ill. 


VIII. 

1894  TO  1899. 

In  the  spring  of  1894,  writing  to  me  from  a  city 
in  the  West,  Mansfield,  now  improved  in  health, 
dwelt  earnestly  on  his  wish  that  his  flurry  of  anger, 
when  suffering  from  grip,  should  be  forgotten. 
"I  was  never  so  ill  in  my  hfe,"  he  said,  refer- 
ring to  that  culmination  of  his  troubles;  "I  did 
not  act  for  three  weeks,  and  ought  not  to  have 
played  for  seven."  He  also  expressed  the  pur- 
pose of  visiting  London,  in  quest  of  new  plays, 
but  that  purpose  was  not  accomplished, — possibly 
because  the  English  censor  had,  meanwhile,  declined 
to  sanction  the  play  of  "Beau  Brummell,"  so  that 
any  design  he  might  incidentally,  have  entertained 
of  acting  again  in  the  British  capital  was  frus- 
trated. It  was  not  easy  (at  least,  I  have  not  found 
it  so)  to  cherish  unkind  feeling.  No  person  who 
knew  Richard  ^Mansfield  well  could  long  remain 
seriously  offended  with  him,  for,  in  some  ways,  he 
was  like  a  tired  child.  "Don't  be  mad  ^vith  me," 
he  wrote;  "I  only  cried  out  to  you,  and  against 

219 


220  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

you,  as  to  a  father  or  brother  who  wouldn't  under- 
stand." 

104  West  80th  Street,  New  York, 

August  2,  1894. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

...  I  am  only  in  town  for  a  couple  of  days,  and  I  should 
dearly  like  to  shake  you  by  the  hand — will  you  come  and  dine 
and  spend  the  evening?  I  am  all  alone,  and  dine  at  seven.  If 
you  feel  like  going  away  for  a  few  days, — I  shall  start  from 
here,  on  my  little  boat,  on  Sunday,  and  I  can  make  you  com- 
fortable and  give  you  a  week's  cruise.  I  think  you  would 
enjoy  it:  again  I  am  entirely  alone  on  the  boat,  barring  the 
crew,  and  I  make  a  point  of  going  to  nobody  and  seeing 
nobody.  If  you  like  sailing  I  am  certain  it  would  do  you 
good,  and  the  sight  of  the  New  York  Yacht  Club  fleet, — whose 
cruise  I  intend  to  follow,  from  Glen  Cove  to  New  Haven — 
from  New  Haven  to  New  London — from  New  London  to  New- 
port— will  be  delightful.  You  can  sprawl  on  your  back  and 
gaze  at  the  sky.     What  do  you  say.'* 

I  left  Beatrice  at  New  London,  for  a  few  days,  with  friends. 
Yours  always,  with  kindest  regards, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

That  kind  invitation  was  necessarily  declined,  and, 
on  August  29,  requiring  rest,  I  sailed  for  Scotland. 

104  West  80th  Street, 

New  York,  September  1,  1894. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Your  kind  letter,  written  on  board  the  Britannic,  was  a 
sorry  surprise  to  us,  for  we  had  hoped  to  have  seen  much  of 
you  here,  in  our  home,  before  we  started  on  our  annual  jaunt. 
But  if  you  are  ill  it  is  well  indeed  that  you  should  be  able 
to    get    away — above    all    to    Bonnie    Scotland.      How,    how    I 


BLUNTSCHLI  221 

wish  we  were  with  you!  May  it  be  for  next  summer!  I 
have  promised  Beatrice  a  trip  thro'  all  the  lovely  spots  of 
England  and  Scotland,  and  perhaps  some  parts  of  Germany 
and  Switzerland  or  the  Tyrol.  Perhaps  you  may  be  persuaded 
to  join  us?  .    .    . 

I  am  as  far  off  from  the  goal  of  my  ambitions  as  ever — and 
I  see  no  improvement.  I  open  the  new  Herald  Square  Theatre 
on  September  17,  with  a  satirical  comedy,  of  no  particular 
weight — clever  enough ;  containing  no  part  for  me.  In  fact, 
in  the  second  act  (there  are  three)  until  the  end  of  it,  I  do  not 
appear.     My  one  hope  is  that  somebody  may  write  something. 

If  you  see  Irving,  greet  him  from  me,  and  tell  him  I  have 
forsaken  the  errors  of  my  youth  and  heartily  sympathize,  and 
am  in  sympathy,  with  him, 

I  am  here  until  the  29th  of  October.  Give  my  love  to  your 
wife  and  children,  and  believe  me 

As  ever  very  devotedly  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


In  the  autumn  of  1894  he  appeared,  September  17, 
at  the  Herald  Square  Theatre,  New  York,  and,  for 
the  first  time,  acted  Captain  Bluntsclili,  in  Mr. 
George  Bernard  Shaw's  satirical  play  "Arms  and 
the  Man."  No  play  by  that  author  had  previously 
been  presented  in  America,  and,  although  that 
novelty  did  not  attract  much  attention,  the  success 
obtained  by  Mansfield,  as  Bluntsclili,  eventually 
launched  Mr.  Shaw  upon  a  tide  of  publicity  which 
has  not  yet  ceased  to  flow.  A  more  notable  event 
was  the  representation,  October  27,  of  a  series  of 
pictorial  scenes, — a  sort  of  theatrical  panorama, — 


222  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

illustrative   of  the  life   of   Napoleon   Bonaparte, — 
Mansfield  personating  the  meteoric  emperor. 

Napoleon  has  figured  in  the  English  drama  for 
nearly,  if  not  quite,  a  century.  A  spectacle  play, 
called  "The  Fall  of  Moscow,"  was  long  popular  in 
London,  at  Astley's  Amphitheatre  and  elsewhere, 
and  Edward  A.  Gomersal  (1788-1862)  was  admired 
for  his  presentation  of  the  famous  Corsican.  Readers 
of  Bon  Gaultier  will  remember  the  ballad  of  "The 
Midnight  Visit,"  descriptive  of  Lord  Castlereagh's 
consternation  on  beholding  Bonaparte, — supposed  to 
have  escaped  from  St.  Helena, — and  of  the  relief  of 
that  statesman,  when  the  phantom  vanished,  and  he 
read,  in  the  "mystic  scroll"  which  had  been  left  upon 
his  table,  "Napoleon,  for  the  Thousandth  time,  by 
Mister  Gomersal."  In  recent  years  the  conqueror 
has  largely  figured  on  our  stage  as  the  domestic 
despot  in  the  ingenious  drama  of  "Mme.  Sans  Gene." 
Mansfield  was  always  especially  sympathetic  with 
the  character  of  Napoleon,  and  indeed, — however 
extravagant  the  statement  may  seem,  at  first  glance, 
— liis  personality  comprised  some  of  the  attributes  of 
that  character, — stalwart  courage,  vaulting  ambi- 
tion, inflexible  will,  resolute  self-confidence,  great 
capacity  for  labor,  iron  endurance,  promptitude 
of  decision,  propensity  for  large  schemes,  and  pas- 
sionate taste   for   profusion    of   opulent    surround- 


Courtcfi!/  of  liohcr  Art  Gallery,  Cohimbiid,  Ohio 

MANSFIELD  AS  ^'APOLKOS  BONAPARTE 


NAPOLEON  223 

ings.  Like  Napoleon,  also,  he  was  sensitive  to 
weird  imagery  and  to  far-off  musical,  melancholy- 
sounds,  and  especially  fond  of  children.  The  wish 
to  act  Napoleon  had  long  been  cherished  by  him. 
He  often  mentioned  it  to  me.  In  1893  he  wrote 
that  he  had  planned  certain  scenes  wliich  he  thought 
could  be  acted,  but  which,  in  representation,  would 
need  to  be  conjoined  by  an  interlude  of  prose  nar- 
rative, for  recitation, — somewhat  after  the  model  of 
the  Greek  Chorus;  and  he  asked  me  to  write  that 
interlude — a  dubious  expedient  for  modern  theatri- 
cal use,  wliich  I  declined  to  furnish.  He  also,  as 
already  mentioned,  proposed  the  subject  to  Augustin 
Daly,  but  without,  at  that  time,  practicallj"  inter- 
esting that  manager.  Daly  produced  a  version  of 
"Mme.  Sans  Gene"  January  3,  1899,  at  his  theatre 
in  New  York,  Ada  Rehan  acting  Catherine,  after- 
ward Duchess  of  Dantzig,  and  George  Clarke 
(1840?-1906)  appearing  as  the  Emperor.  The  piece 
about  Napoleon  that  Mansfield  ultimately  obtained 
and  presented  was  a  cluster  of  episodes,  representa- 
tive more  than  dramatic,  contributory  to  a  pictorial 
outline  of  the  Emperor's  life,  and  it  enabled  him,  at 
least,  to  gratify  himself  by  assuming, — as  he  did, 
with  a  keen  perception  of  the  man  and  with  striking 
effect, — several  aspects  of  Napoleon,  mental  no  less 
than  physical.    The  pubhc  response  to  his  exliibition 


224  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

of  that  great  historic  person  was  not  considerable. 
His  acting,  indeed,  was  admired:  his  play,  "a  thing 
of  shreds  and  patches,"  was  rightly  considered 
tedious.  The  first  presentation  of  "Napoleon  Bona- 
parte" occurred  on  the  last  night  of  his  New  York 
engagement.  On  October  29  he  began  another  tour 
of  the  country,  and  this,  happily,  was  remunera- 
tive,— although  his  gains  were  lessened  by  his  ill- 
judged  persistence  in  presenting,  from  time  to  time, 
both  "Napoleon  Bonaparte"  and  "Arms  and  the 
Man." 

He  was  now  to  undergo  another  painful  experi- 
ence of  labor  wasted,  ambition  thwarted  and  hope 
bereaved.  Early  in  1895  a  serious  illness  befell  that 
clever,  genial,  winning  Irish  comedian,  Edward  Har- 
rigan,  and  he  presently  felt  constrained  to  relin- 
quish his  theatre,  which  had  been  very  prosperous, 
but  which  had  greatly  declined  in  public  favor. 
Mansfield,  who  for  several  years  had  entertained  the 
project  of  managing  a  theatre  in  New  York,  heard 
of  the  opportunity  thus  opened,  and  immediately 
resolved  to  take  advantage  of  it.  On  JNIarch  7,  writ- 
ing to  his  devoted  friend  and  wise,  conscientious, 
faithful  legal  adviser,  A.  W.  Gleason,  Esq.,  he 
said: 

"It  is  imperative  that  I  should  become  the  lessee — if  not 
the  proprietor — of  that  theatre.     It  is  just  the  place   for  me. 


GARRICK    THEATRE  225 

I  can  run  it  very  inexpensively,  and  I  can  make  it  a  simple 
and  dignified  temple  of  art.  .  .  .  We  rarely  do  less  than 
$5,000  per  week.  I  will  either  buy  or  lease  the  theatre,  at 
a  fair  price;  we  always  pay  our  rent — and  if  we  don't  they 
can  kick  us  out!  I  must  have  it,  and  it  must  be  ready  by 
Easter  Monday,  April  15. 


Mansfield  finally  obtained  a  lease  of  Harrigan's 
Theatre  (in  West  Thirty-fifth  Street),  refitted  it,  at 
large  expense,  called  it  The  Garrick  Theatre, — 
by  wliich  name  it  is  still  known  (1910), — and 
straightway  beguiled  himself  with  rosy  dreams  of 
achievement  and  prosperity.  "I  shall  work  like  a 
beaver,"  he  wrote  to  me,  March  17,  1895;  "I  shall 
endeavor  to  do  my  duty!  I  shall  try  to  conciliate 
all;  I  shall  be  truly  glad  of  your  advice."  His 
spirit  was  intrepid,  and  no  friend  could  fail  to 
sympathize  with  him  and  encourage  liim, — especially 
since  he  had  already  irrevocably  committed  himself 
to  the  undertaking;  but  the  conditions  under  wliich 
he  embarked  in  that  new  enterprise  were,  to  the  last 
degree,  unpropitious.  Nothing,  indeed,  was  favor- 
able to  it,  aside  from  his  genius,  indomitable  cour- 
age, and  high  reputation.  The  season  of  1894-'95 
had  been  very  laborious  for  him,  following  his  loss 
and  disappointment  in  the  production  of  "The  ]Mer- 
chant  of  Venice."  He  was  not  in  robust  health. 
His  company  was  not  very  strong.    The  theatre  that 


226  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

he  had  chosen  was  situated  aside  from  the  main 
theatrical  thoroughfare  of  the  city,  and  it  was  asso- 
ciated in  the  pubhc  mind  with  Harrigan's  Irish- 
German-Negro  farces, — good  entertainments  of  their 
kind,  but  not  such  as  had  invested  the  house  with  a 
high  character,  commending  it  to  the  favor  of  the 
educated  community.  He  had  determined  to  begin, 
not  at  the  opening,  but  at  the  close,  of  the  regular 
dramatic  season,  and  to  begin  with  a  play  which  did 
not  possess  either  intrinsic  importance  or  the  allure- 
ment of  novelty.  That  play  was  "Arms  and  the 
Man,"  at  its  best  a  dilution  of  "Used  Up,"  garnished 
with  satirical  additions,  and  Mansfield  had  already 
acted  the  chief  part  in  it.  Captain  Bluntschli,  at  the 
Herald  Square  Theatre,  where  although  his  acting 
had  been  much  admired,  as  it  richly  deserved  to 
be,  the  play  had  proved  practically  a  failure.  It 
chanced,  also,  that  summer  resorts,  called  "roof- 
gardens,"  had  grown  in  number  and  likewise  in 
favor,  establishing  a  formidable  competition,  at  that 
season  of  the  year.  Mansfield's  active  repertory, 
indeed,  was  a  good  one, — comprising  "A  Parisian 
Romance,"  "Prince  Karl,"  "Beau  Brummell,"  "Dr. 
Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  "The  Scarlet  Letter,"  "The 
Merchant  of  Venice,"  and  "Napoleon," — and  it 
provided  him  with  some  parts  in  which  he  could  put 
forth  his   powers  with   splendid  effect:   but   for   a 


A   GLITTERING   HOST  227 

summer    season   in    New    York    it    lacked   novelty 
where  it  did  not  lack  lightness  and  mirth. 

In  the  general  state  of  dramatic  affairs,  further- 
more, there  was  much  to  obstruct  any  effort  which, 
under  existing  local  conditions,  he  might  be  able 
to  make.  During  the  period  extending  from  the 
autumn  of  1893  to  the  spring  of  1896  Mansfield 
was,  from  season  to  season,  under  the  necessity  of 
contending  with  a  professional  opposition  and  rivalry 
of  extraordinary  force, — a  host,  indeed,  scarcely 
less  potent  than  that  marshalled  against  him  at 
the  time  of  his  production  of  "Richard  III." 
Augustin  Daly  was  managing  a  superb  company, 
with  Ada  Rehan  at  the  head  of  it,  and,  with  a 
repertory  containing  "Twelfth  Night,"  "The  Taming 
of  the  Shrew,"  "The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona," 
"The  School  for  Scandal,"  "The  Critic,"  "Heart  of 
Ruby,"  and  various  rollicking  farces.  Edward  S. 
Willard,  associated  with  specially  able  auxiliar  play- 
ers, was  acting  in  "The  Middleman"  and  "Judah," 
two  of  the  best  plays  of  that  accomplished  dramatist, 
Henry  Arthur  Jones.  Henry  Irving  and  Ellen 
Terry,  with  the  formidable  Lyceum  corps,  were 
pervading  the  country,  in  a  marvellous  repertory, 
which  included  "Becket,"  "Charles  L,"  "Ohvia," 
"Much  Ado  About  Nothing,"  "King  Arthur,"  "The 
Merchant    of    Venice,"    "Macbeth,"    "The    BeUs," 


228  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

"Nance  Oldfield,"  "Louis  XL,"  "The  Lyons  Mail," 
"Waterloo,"  and  "Don  Quixote."  Helen  Modjeska 
was  the  cynosure  of  many  eyes,  in  her  noble  and 
touching  embodiment  of  "Mary  Stuart."  The 
eminent  French  actor,  Jean  Mounet-Sully,  was 
conspicuous  in  "Hernani,"  "Edipus  Rex,"  "Ruy 
Bias,"  "Hamlet,"  and  "The  Cid."  Mme.  Rejane 
was  delighting  all  beholders  by  her  sparkling  per- 
formance of  Mme.  Sans  Gene  and  by  her  piquant 
coquetry  in  "Divor9ons"  and  "Ma  Cousine."  Joseph 
Jefferson  was  visible,  in  the  affluence  of  his  perennial 
popularity,  acting  Rip  Van  Winkle,  Acres j  and  Caleb 
Plummer,  and  diffusing  the  charm  of  his  exquisite 
art,  of  which  the  public  never  grew  weary.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Kendal  could  be  seen  in  "The  Ironmaster,"  "A 
White  Lie,"  "A  Scrap  of  Paper,"  and  other  plays, 
and  to  see  them  was  a  perfect  pleasure.  Rose 
Coghlan,  in  her  prime,  was  acting  brilliantly,  in 
"Diplomacy"  and  "Forget  Me  Not."  Wilson  Bar- 
rett had  gained  an  American  no  less  than  an  Eng- 
lish following,  in  "The  Manxman,"  "Virginius," 
"Othello,"  and  "The  Silver  King."  Herbert  Beer- 
bohm-Tree  was  performing,  in  "The  Red  Lamp," 
"Gringoire,"  "The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor," 
"Hamlet,"  and  "Captain  Swift";  and  that  superb 
artist,  John  Hare,  as  Goldfinch,  in  "A  Pair  of  Spec- 
tacles," was  adorning  the  stage  and  brightening  life 


GREAT    EXPECTATIONS  229 

for  all  who  saw  him.  Those  citations  only  barely 
indicate  the  strength  and  variety  of  theatrical  attrac- 
tion, on  the  American  stage,  by  which  that  period 
was  marked, — an  embattled  array  which  JMansfield 
was  obHged  to  meet,  and  which,  with  supreme  self- 
confidence  and  undaunted  spirit,  he  bravely  set 
himself  to  encounter. 

The  plans  that  he  had  formed  and  the  hopes  by 
which  he  was  buoyed,  in  entering  upon  the  manage- 
ment of  his  theatre,  are  denoted  in  letters  that  fol- 
low,— sad  and  forlorn  in  effect  now,  remembering 
that  nothing  came  of  all  his  dreams  and  earnest 
labors  but  disappointment  and  sorrow: 

Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  Private  Car  3977. 

March  22,  1895. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Your  letter,  your  Memoranda  received.  How  can  I  thank 
you?  I  will  bear  it  all  well  in  mind,  and  it  will  be  invalu- 
able to  me — if, — if — I  can  only  manage  to  be  so  good  and 
wise!? 

I  cannot  call  the  theatre  "Mansfield's."  My  instincts  are  all 
against  it.  Maybe  the  shade  of  Garrick  has  something  to  do 
with  it.  You  see,  there  is  Abbey's,  and  Miner's,  and  Hoyt's, 
and  there  was  Harrigan's,  and  there  is  Palmer's.  Garrick 
did  just  the  sort  of  thing  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  do; 
Tragedy  and  Comedy,  and  even  a  song  or  so. 

...  I  want  to  call  it  "The  Garrick"  because  it's  as  good 
a  name  as  any  other:  "Mansfield's"  would  be  beastly,  and 
when  I  went  out  they'd  change  it,  of  course,  and  call  it  Jones's 
or  Sniggins's.     Moreover,  if  it  turns  out  a  failure — which  may 


230  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

God  prevent! — I  don't  want  Mansfield  to  suffer  any  more  than 
I  can  help.  Garrick  is  still  a  name  to  conjure  by — and  if  he 
was  English,  what's  the  odds?  A  great  actor  is  for  all  the 
world — not  for  one  little  spot — eh? 

As  soon  as  the  place  is  fumigated,  cleaned  (a  theatre  by  any 
other  name  would  smell  as  sweet!)  painted,  recarpeted,  and 
seated  (by  which  I  mean  new  chairs)  you  and  I  will  sit  down 
in  it  and  talk  it  all  over. 

The  company  shall  be  the  finest  in  the  world:  it  will  take  a 
little  time  to  accomplish  that.  I  have  engaged  a  woman,  by 
name  Janet  Achurch — she  is  now  on  her  way  here.  My  brother 
Felix,  who  comes  over  to  assist  me,  is  bringing  her  with  him. 
Felix  is  my  elder  brother — a  highly  educated  man  of  good 
manners,  accomplished  and  tactful.  I  am  sorry  to  say  he  is 
not  very  strong  physically,  and  he  wears  a  glass  in  one  eye — 
but  this  latter  may  prove  an  attraction ! 

I  have  seen  Janet  act,  and  I  fancy  that,  after  Ellen  Terry — 
perhaps  a  long  way  after — she  is,  by  far,  the  cleverest  actress 
in  London.  Any  leaning  she  may  have  toward  Ibsen  and 
cult  I  will  straighten  swiftly. 

I  am  in  grave  doubt  as  to  whether  I  had  best  open  the  theatre 
with  a  week  or  so  of  repertory,  and  gather  in  thus  all  classes  of 
people  (for,  with  certain  plays,  such  as  "Brummell,"  "Jekyll 
and  Hyde,"  etc.,  we  are  sure  of  full  houses)  or  whether  it 
would  be  best  to  commence  with  a  new  play,  and  a  possible — 
nay,  likely,  failure?  I  could  commence  with  "Brummell,"  "A 
Parisian  Romance,"  "Prince  Karl,"  "The  Scarlet  Letter," 
"Arms  and  the  Man,"  "Napoleon,"  and  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr. 
Hyde,"  which  is  my  repertory  in  Harlem  this  coming  week, 
March  23. 

If  I  open  with  a  new  play  it  would,  probably,  be  "Candida," 
by  Bernard  Shaw,  if  the  play,  on  arrival  here  (I  shall  see  it 
on  Monday),  proves  to  be  clean — if  not,  with  "The  Errant 
King,"  by  Charles  Leonard  Moore,  a  Philadelphian.  The 
story  is  clean  and  pretty — a  romantic  King  (modern)  who  wan- 
ders   away — turns    actor — falls    in   love   with   a   beautiful    girl, 


SUGGESTIONS  231 

an  actress;  the  language  is  good^  and  all  is  sweet  and  clean 
and  pretty,  and  not  lacking  in  humor. 

I  also  have  "Galeotto/'  much  spoken  of  in  Europe,  where 
its  success  is  very  great.  I  should  call  it  "Public  Opinion." 
The  story  is  also  clean.  Here,  you  see,  we  have  three  new 
plays.  I  have  also  "The  Philanderer,"  by  Bernard  Shaw.  It 
is  an  extraordinary  thing.  It  turns  Ibsen  inside  out,  and  the 
spectacle,  as  a  result,  is  not  a  pleasant  or  agreeable  one. 

All  your  wise  counsels  I  will  endeavor  to  follow  and  to 
impress  upon  my  people. 

I  fear  ISIrs.  John  Wood  could  not  be  engaged,  under  an 
enormous  salary, — probably  $400  or  $500  a  week.  Would 
she  be  worth  that?    And  could  we  find  parts  for  her? 

Most  of  the  other  people  you  name  would  be  gravely  insulted 
if  I  ojBfered  them  engagements  in  my  company — not  one  of  them 
that  does  not  think  himself  or  herself  a  star  of  the  first  magni- 
tude, and  certainly  much  greater  than  your  poor  R.  M. 

You  are  not  going  to  retire  to  private  life  for  the  next 
hundred  years,  and  it  is  no  use  your  talking  about  it. 

When,  when,  when,  shall  I  see  you?  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  greatly  I  feel  your  goodness  in  sending  me  all  these  golden 
words.  As  ever  your 

Richard. 


It  had  been  a  pleasure  to  propose  for  liis  considera- 
tion various  measures  that  seemed  propitious  to  his 
success,  and  in  proposing  them  I  said: 


...  I  have  set  down,  as  well  as  an  aching  head  will  let 
me,  a  few  impressions  as  to  your  conduct  of  your  new  theatre. 
They  are  offered  in  response  to  your  request,  and  merely  as 
suggestive,  and  in  no  way  presuming  to  intrude  or  advise.  If 
I  am  here,  I  shall  do  whatever  I  can  to  help  you.     Everything 


232  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

will  be  done  for  you  that  intellectual  sympathy  can  dictate,  in 
any  case,  for  every  intellectual  man  in  this  community  wishes 
you  to  succeed.  W.  W. 

Normandie  Hotel,  Washington,  D.  C, 

April   10,   1895. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Your  good  letter  received.  Your  suggestion  with  regard  to 
Shakespeare's  birthday  is  a  capital  one — the  idea  had  not 
occurred  to  me  and  I  should  like  to  realize  it;  but  all  our 
costumes  and  scenery  for  "The  Merchant"  were  burnt,  in  the 
store-house  fire.  I  shall,  however,  set  about  it  at  once,  and  see 
what  may  be  accomplished. 

I  have  discarded  play  after  play,  and  I  am  in  despair.  I 
cannot  present — I  cannot  act,  the  sickening  rot  the  play- 
wright of  to-day  turns  out.  Shaw's  "Candida"  was  sweet 
and  clean — but  he's  evidently  got  a  religious  turn — an  awaken- 
ing to  Christianity;  and  it's  just  two  and  one-half  hours  of 
preaching,  and  I  fear  the  people  don't  want  that.  Also,  there  is 
no  part  for  me  but  a  sickly  youth,  a  poet,  who  falls  in  love 
with  Candida — who  is  a  young  lady  of  thirty-five  and  the  wife 
of  an  honest  clergyman,  who  is  a  socialist!  There  is  no 
change  of  scene  in  three  acts,  and  no  action  beyond  moving 
from  a  chair  to  a  sofa  and  vice  versa.  O,  ye  Gods  and  little 
fishes!  I  am  now  for  "The  Peruvians"  ("The  King  of  Peru"), 
which  I  think  will  be  the  right  thing.  Light — bright — simple — 
honest;  a  good  bill  for  this  time  of  the  year. 

I  have  arranged  with  Mr.  Watt — who  came  over  on  purpose 
— for  the  right  to  have  dramatized  and  to  use  all  Stanley 
Weyman's  works — "A  Gentleman  of  France,"  "Under  the  Red 
Robe,"  etc.,  and  Mr.  Watt  is  also  arranging  for  me  with  all 
the  other  important  authors  for  whom  he  is  agent.  This 
is  strictly  entre-nous — it  would  not  be  wise  to  put  Frohman  on 
the  scent.  I  simply  want  to  let  you  know  that  I  disregard  none 
of  your  advice. 


AN    IDEAL  233 

The  Garrick  Theatre — as  a  theatre — will  be  absolutely 
charming;  I  know  of  nothing  prettier  or  more  tasteful  in  New 
York  City.  I  would,  however,  rather  keep  it  closed  than  open 
badly,  i.e.,  with  the  wrong  sort  of  thing.  In  time  I  can  train 
a  Company  to  something  like  artistic  excellence;  and  in  time  I 
can  produce  play  after  play;  and  I  can,  in  time,  find  good 
plays. 

It  is  possible  that  I  may  prove — please  God,  I  may — an 
incentive  to  good  men  to  write  for  the  stage.  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain— I  will  do  absolutely  nothing  at  the  Garrick  Theatre  that 
a  young  girl  may  not  venture  to  see,  and  I  shall  try  to  cater  to 
YOUNG  people  principally.  I  shall  try  to  avoid  all  morbid,  etc., 
etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  subjects:  you  can  fill  in  these  words,  for  you 
know  just  what  I  mean.  I  shall  try  to  bring  things  back  to 
a  healthy,  virile  tone — to  make  life  brighter  and  better,  and 
give  honor  and  courage  a  fresh  start.  I'm  for  a  lance,  with 
a  bow  of  my  lady's  ribbon! 

I  don't  like  to  talk  of  all  my  plans  and  all  my  hopes — my 
boat,  with  youth  at  the  helm  and  hope  in  the  bow,  may  come  a 
ship-wreck — still,  I  shan't  be  disgraced  for  trying.  I  shall 
commence  very  quietly  and  modestly.  I  am  in  no  hurry  to 
open — we've  all  the  year  before  us;  perhaps  ten  years.    .    .    . 

The  whole  scheme  of  decoration  in  the  house  is  very  simple. 
The  character  is  Italian  Renaissance — the  scheme  of  color  is  a 
study  in  reds;  everything  is  red,  and  the  lights  will  cast  a 
pleasant,  rosy  sheen  over  everybody  and  everything.  The  wood 
panelling  is  black  oak.  From  the  foyer  a  staircase  leads  below 
to  the  Ladies'  Dressing  Room  and  a  Pompeian  room,  which  is 
also  devoted  to  them,  and  in  which  a  fountain  will  make  a 
soothing  plashing  of  water.  Here  M.  Maillard,  the  celebrated 
confectioner,  will  provide  a  cup  of  tea  or  coffee,  or  an  ice. 
Women  who  come  to  the  theatre  from  a  distance  suffer  often 
from  lack  of  refreshment,  and  as  I  have  already  said,  this 
theatre  of  mine  is  to  be  for  youth  and  beauty  and  comfort  and 
courtesy.  A  lady  may  travel  from  Orange  or  Staten  Island,  and 
spend  a  comfortable  hour,  before  the  play,  in  the  theatre. 


234  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

There  will  be  no  magnificent  ushers — a  dozen  bright  boys  in 
buttons  will  show  you  to  your  seat  and  obey  your  nod.  If 
they  do  not  behave — they  are  paid  to  take  a  kick.  The  func- 
tionary in  the  box-office  will  smile  and  say  "If  you  please,"  like 
Sir  Joseph  Porter. 

There  will  be  no  brass  in  the  orchestra — no  drum.  Occa- 
sionally, Miss  Marguerite  Hall,  or  somebody  else  with  a  beauti- 
ful voice  and  an  admirable  method,  will  sing  for  us  between  the 
acts  of  the  play,  some  old  ballad  that  we  all  know  and  love  to 
hear. 

The  Theatre  will  not  be  a  cold,  musty,  dusty,  dismal  place 
that  smells  of  gas  and  ill-conditioned  drains,  but  a  pleasant 
place  where  men  and  women  may  turn  in  and  rest,  and  go 
away  brightened,  furbished,  and  refreshed. 

Ever   yours, 

Richard   Mansfield. 

Mansfield's  association  with  the  Garrick  Theatre 
extended  over  a  period  of  about  eight  months.  He 
opened  that  house  on  April  23,  acting  Captain 
Bluntschli,  and,  personally,  he  was  cordially  wel- 
comed. Quick  changes  of  bill  ensued.  An  insig- 
nificant drama  called  "The  King  of  Peru"  was 
produced  on  May  7  and  withdrawn  on  May  12.  A 
revival  of  "Prince  Karl"  was  made,  and  that  was 
supplemented  with  other  selections  from  Mansfield's 
old  repertory.  On  June  1  he  closed  his  first  engage- 
ment, and  on  June  3  he  presented  a  burlesque, 
entitled  "Thrilby," — a  verbal  and  musical  skit  at 
Du  Manner's  fanciful  story  of  "Trilby,"  at  that 
time  a  subject  of  considerable  public  interest, — in 


I'liotoyruph  h\j  Pack  Bros. 

RICHARD  MANSFIELD  IX  1895 


FANCIED    FOES  235 

the  representation  of  which,  of  course,  he  did  not 
participate.  The  performance  of  that  burlesque  was, 
in  various  ways,  meritorious,  but  the  community  was 
indifferent  to  it,  and  after  a  losing  career  of  six  weeks 
it  was  laid  aside,  July  13,  and  the  theatre  was  closed. 
Mansfield's  health  had,  all  the  wliile,  been  failing,  and 
he  now  completely  broke  down.  He  was  attacked 
by  typhoid  fever  and  for  several  weeks  it  seemed 
Hkely  that  the  attack  would  prove  fatal.  Once, 
indeed,  rumor  signified  that  he  was  dying.  He  ral- 
lied, however,  to  the  great  relief  of  his  friends,  and 
in  the  autumn  he  went  to  Lakewood. 

At  the  time  of  his  opening  of  the  Garrick  Theatre 
Mansfield  had  seriously  entertained  the  singular, 
inexplicable  fancy  that  a  social  faction  had  arisen, 
in  New  York,  to  oppose  and  injure  him.  He  did 
not  name  the  members  of  it,  nor  did  he  specifically 
designate  its  character  or  its  method  of  proceeding. 
That  it  was  in  existence  and  would  be  maliciously 
operative  he  felt  assured,  and  he  resolved  upon  such 
measures  for  its  defeat  as  he  beheved  would  be 
decisive.  Before  presenting  any  play,  in  the  course 
of  his  business,  he  would  give  "three  public  Dress 
Rehearsals"  of  it,  to  which  admission  could  be 
bought,  and  those  representations,  necessarily  imper- 
fect, should  be  followed  by  the  first  regular  perform- 
ance.   By  that  means  the  faction  was  to  be  discom- 


236  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

fited;  and  he  seems  also  to  have  believed  that  the 
newspaper  press, — which  has  been  known  to  fore- 
cast and  even  to  anticipate  "news,"  rather  than  wait 
a  few  hours  for  the  fact, — would  wait  three  or  four 
days  before  publishing  any  comment  on  his  proceed- 
ings. His  plan,  of  which  no  friend  could  approve, 
was  set  forth  in  these  words: 


104.  West  80th  Street,  New  York, 

May,    1895. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I'm  sorry  you  don't  like  the  idea  of  the  Public  Dress 
Rehearsals.  It  is,  at  least,  nothing  new,  and  I  intend  to  make 
this  arrangement  always.  First  nights  are  hideous — especially 
in  this  town,  where  a  certain  class  of  persons  have  monopolized 
the  theatre  upon  these  occasions,  and  not  to  the  advantage  of 
Art. 

These  people  are  not  friendly  to  me — it  is  a  faction.  This 
move  of  mine,  if  it  does  not  destroy  the  enemy, — at  least  cuts 
their  army  into  three  parts,  and  leaves  each  part  uncertain 
where  to  meet  me.  But  this  is  not  so  important  as  the  fact 
that  these  creatures  have  made  a  first  night  a  terror  to  the  actor: 
it  was  always  bad  enough,  but  these  ghouls  have  multiplied 
its  horrors. 

Many  managers  have,  recently,  in  part  overcome  the  diffi- 
culty by  presenting  the  play  out  of  town  in  the  first  instance. 
This  method  is  not  expedient  for  me.  My  dress  rehearsals, — 
a  plan  which  I  shall,  now,  always  follow — will  take  away  a 
great  deal  of  our  nervousness,  and  will  make  a  first  night 
virtually  the  third  performance  of  the  play;  and  we  shall  have 
discovered  mistakes  in  author,  in  delivery  of  lines,  in  mise-en- 
scene,  etc.,  which  can  be  corrected.  It  also  affords  the 
reviewer   an   opportunity,   if   he   wishes    to   become   thoroughly 


"DRESS    REHEARSALS"  237 

acquainted  with  the  work.  When  applied  to  really  important 
productions  it  will  be  generally  appreciated  and  largely 
followed. 

1  have  to  study  next  Sunday,  and  get  a  few  words  into  my 
head,  otherwise  I  had  intended  coming  over.  I  called  on 
Jefferson,  at  the  Fifth  Avenue:  he  cannot  play  at  our  house. 
He  has  a  contract  with  Palmer,  at  the  Garden  Theatre.  He  is 
coming  to  "Prince  Karl"  this  evening. 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


The  performances  of  "The  King  of  Peru,"  given, 
in  pursuance  of  his  futile  plan,  as  "Dress  Rehearsals," 
were  not,  in  any  essential  particular,  different  from 
customary  performances,  and  he  did  not  again  resort 
to  that  abortive  expedient  for  attracting  public  atten- 
tion. In  calling  on  Jefferson  he  had  followed  a 
suggestion  which  I  had  ventured  to  make,  that  it 
would  prove  advantageous  for  him  to  persuade  the 
famous  comedian  to  act  at  the  Garrick,  in  the 
autumn,  presenting  "The  Rivals."  The  prodigious 
popularity  of  Jefferson  might  have  operated  to 
avert  disaster,  and  so  might  have  saved  the  for- 
tunes of  the  house  for  the  young  manager  to 
whom  the  enterprise  was  so  important  and  so  dear. 
The  condition  and  feehng  of  the  actor,  under 
the  strain  of  misfortune  and  sickness,  were  indi- 
cated in  a  letter  that  he  wrote,  after  leaving 
town : 


238  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

Lakewood,  New  Jersey, 

October  27,  1895. 

...  I  am  at  present  at  Lakewood  Asylum — where  I 
think  William  Winter  should  join  me.  I  am  dwelling  in  a 
cottage,  alone.  William  will  only  have  to  write  one  exhaust- 
ive review  this  week,  that  of  the  new  play  "Macbeth," 
which  is  to  be  presented  at  Abbey's  Theatre,  and  then,  in 
order  to  avoid  all  disagreeable  comment,  he  can  come  down 
here. 

A  slip  from  " "  was  sent  me  recently — cut  out  care- 
fully and  marked  with  a  red  and  blue  pencil,  referring  to 
William's  (not  William  Shakespeare's  but  W.  W.'s)  annual 
pilgrimage  to  the  tombstones  and  graveyards  of  merry  old 
England;  but  as  there  was  an  even  more  unpleasant  reference 
to  me  upon  the  same  page,  I  failed  to  be  amused:  if  there 
had  been  nothing  disagreeable  said  about  me  I  should,  no  doubt, 
have  been  hugely  entertained. 

Beyond  these  few  brief  facts  I  know  nothing — which  is  the 
plainest  and  truest  statement  I  have  ever  made!  I  have  been 
in  a  bed-room  so  long  that  my  ideas  have  narrowed  down  con- 
siderably, and  since  then  I  have  crawled  about  with  a  stick, 
and  an  ardent  desire  to  beat  somebody,  for  something  or  other 
that  somebody  must  have  done  to  bring  about  such  a  condition 
of  affairs.  You  don't  suppose,  do  you,  that  a  fellow,  just  as 
he  is  baring  his  arms  and  straightening  his  legs  for  the  fight, 
can  be  knocked  over,  and  stay  knocked  over  for  ten  weeks, 
unless  somebody  hit  him — do  you?  Do  you  believe  that  evil 
wishes  hurt  people? 

If  William  will  come  here,  and  stay  here  awhile,  in  this 
sacred  spot,  he  will  find  an  amiable  and  pacific  idiot,  brooding 
over  the  Past — instead  of  a  rampageous  and  belligerent  ass, 
braying  defiance  at  the  world.  Let  him  come,  and  let  him  see! 
The  little  cottage  is  delightful;  the  walks  through  the  oaks  and 
pine  refreshing.  I  have  not  been  recognized  here  by  a  mortal 
being — neither  will  he!     Let  him  come?     I  retire  at  nine.     I 


RODION  239 

rise   at   seven.      If   you   take   the    1.40   train,   you   arrive   here 
about  4.30. 

Yours  always  truly, 

Richard  Mansfield. 
By  the  way,  W.  W.   might  bring  Henry   Irving  down  here 
with  him,  to  spend  Sunday.     I  promise  to  be  very  agreeable; — 
also  Miss  Terry  and  Mr.  B.  Stoker. 

As  soon  as  he  had  measurably  recovered  from  dis- 
tressing and  dangerous  illness  he  resumed  his  pro- 
fessional labor,  appearing,  November  25,  1895,  at 
the  Chestnut  Street  Opera  House,  Philadelphia,  as 
Brummellj,  and  giving,  in  the  course  of  one  week, 
several  selections  from  his  repertory.  Meanwhile  he 
had  arranged  for  the  re-opening  of  the  Garrick 
Theatre,  and  that  house  was  occupied  from  Sep- 
tember 2  till  October  28  by  Edmund  Milton  Hol- 
land, Joseph  Holland,  and  a  company,  under 
Mansfield's  management,  performing  in  "The  Man 
with  a  Past"  and  "A  Social  Highwayman."  On 
December  3  Mansfield  reappeared  at  the  Garrick, 
acting,  for  the  first  time,  the  part  of  Bodion,  in  a 
drama  derived,  indirectly,  from  a  Russian  novel 
called  "Crime  and  Punishment."  His  acting,  in 
one  scene  of  that  play,  was  remarkable  for  its  afflic- 
tive exhibition  of  a  state  of  mental  torture, — Rodion, 
who  has  committed  a  murder,  being  shown  as  repeat- 
ing, in  delirium,  the  commission  of  that  crime,  and 
exhibiting  the  tremor  and  misery  of  his  terror  and 


240  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

remorse.  The  scene  of  the  enacted  murder  was 
recognized  as  a  rough  variant  of  the  Dream  Scene 
in  the  well-known  play  of  "The  Bells,"  and  Mans- 
field's acting  in  it  did  not  suffice  to  mitigate  the 
repulsiveness  of  literal  horror  inherent  in  a  shock- 
ing story  prosily  told.  The  play  was  a  failure,  as 
it  desei'ved  to  be,  and  as  such  nightmares  invariably 
are.  The  adverse  result  was  attributed  by  the  actor, 
not  to  its  obvious  cause, — the  dreary,  obnoxious, 
repellent  character  of  the  subject  and  the  drama, — 
but  to  the  hostihty  of  those  inveterate  sinners,  "the 
critics";  and,  brooding  upon  that  mistaken  notion 
of  injustice,  he  became  much  embittered.  In  a 
magazine  article  that  he  published,  several  years 
afterward,  his  views  and  feelings  relative  to  this 
melancholy  subject  were  thus  made  known: 

"...  The  saddest  spot  in  the  sad  life  of  the  actor  is  to  be 
forgotten.  .  .  .  Every  character  he  creates  is  a  child  he  bears. 
There  is  labor  and  there  is  pain.  He  has  bestowed  upon  it  his 
love  and  incessant  thought,  and,  sleeping  and  waking,  it  is  with 
him  as  with  a  mother.  When  it  is  born  it  is  born  like  the 
children  of  the  King, — in  public.  .  .  .  Sometimes,  when  the 
people  have  acclaimed  it,  those  whose  business  it  is  to  sit  in 
judgment  on  the  child  condemn  it  on  first  sight,  and  it  is  buried 
in  its  little  coffin,  and  only  its  mother  weeps  over  it.  .  .  . 
Poor,  wretched,  fever-wrought  Rodion  stands  before  me.  .  .  . 
After  the  scene  of  delirium,  in  which  Rodion  kills  his  imagined 
victim,  I  broke  down.  The  curtain  had  fallen;  the  audience 
sat  perfectly  still;  there  was  not  a  breath  of  applause.     I  had 


l'hijt()ijnti)h   hij  Hiilh  \i'ic    York 

E.  M.  HOLLAND 


SOTHERN   AS    RODION  241 

failed.  I  was  carried  to  my  room.  Then  there  came  to  me  the 
thunder  of  approval.  It  woke  me — it  revivified  me.  I  went 
before  the  curtain,  again  and  again.  My  child  had  triumphed! 
All  my  troubles,  my  sickness,  my  losses,  were  forgotten.  But 
there  is  no  mercy  in  these  matters.  The  next  day  my  child  was 
killed.  The  next  night  he  was  dead  of  neglect,  and  there  was 
no  one  at  his   funeral.    ..." 


The  pathos  of  that  lament  is  somewhat  vitiated 
by  remembrance  of  the  fact  that  the  newspaper 
notices  of  Mansfield's  performance  of  Rodion  were, 
in  general,  favorable.  The  "child"  languished,  and 
ultimately  expired,  because  the  public  was  not  inter- 
ested by  it,  and  the  pubUc  was  not  interested  by  it 
because  it  was  not  interesting.  It  may  not  be 
amiss  to  mention  that  twelve  years  later,  in  the  sea- 
son of  1907-'08,  a  drama  on  the  same  subject, 
called  "The  Fool  Hath  Said— There  Is  No  God," 
by  Lawrence  Irving,  was  presented  by  Edward 
H.  Sothern,  who  acted  the  same  part — with  the 
same  result,  public  avoidance  and  financial  loss. 
Yet  Mr.  Sothern's  impersonation  of  Rodion,  the 
homicidal  fanatic, — considered  as  to  its  technical 
merit, — was  an  exceptionally  fine  piece  of  acting;  a 
minute  study  of  morbid  mentahty,  clear,  consistent, 
and  deftly  finished.  The  character  of  Rodion  is 
an  image  of  disease  and  the  play  is  a  horror. 
Mansfield,  in  choosing  to  act  that  part,  undoubt- 


242  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

edly  reasoned  that  since  Matliias,  in  "The  Bells," 
had  been  made  effective,  Rodion^  in  "Crime  and 
Pmiishment,"  could  likewise  be  made  effective. 
Both  are  murderers.  Both  suffer  remorse.  Both 
rehearse  the  action  of  a  murder.  But  there  is  a 
radical  difference  in  the  story,  in  the  investiture, 
in  the  conduct  of  the  plot,  in  the  treatment 
of  the  details,  and,  above  all,  in  the  quahty 
and  fibre  of  the  character  of  the  murderer;  and 
for  that  radical  difference  no  allowance  was 
made. 

Mansfield  gave  his  last  performance  at  the  Gar- 
rick  Theatre  on  December  14,  1895,  relinquishing  the 
lease  of  that  house  to  Mr.  Charles  Frolmian,  and 
once  more  resorting  to  "the  hard,  hard  road." 
From  that  time,  till  the  time  of  his  peculiar  good 
fortune  with  Rostand's  drama  of  "Cyrano  de  Ber- 
gerac," — a  welcome  prosperity,  which  came  to  him 
in  October,  1898, — his  professional  experience  was, 
comparatively,  uneventful,  being  only  that  of 
monotonous  and  mostly  thankless  labor.  His  quest 
of  fresh  subjects  for  stage  treatment  meanwhile 
did  not  cease.  He  thought  of  acting  Frederick  the 
Great  and  also,  if  he  could  obtain  a  novel  drama 
on  the  subject,  Henry  the  Eighth.  In  the  autumn 
of  1896,  he  produced,  in  Chicago,  a  new  play,  called 
"Castle  Sombras,"  by  Mr.  Greenough  Smith.     In 


NEW    PLAYS  243 

the  autumn  of  1897  he  brought  out,  in  Albany, 
"The  Devil's  Disciple,"  by  Mr.  G.  B.  Shaw.  In 
the  spring  of  1898  he  presented,  in  Boston,  "The 
First  Violin."  In  "Castle  Sombras"  he  personated 
an  austere  nobleman,  grim  and  gloomy,  of  the 
stormy,  picturesque  period  of  Charles  I., — by  name 
Sir  John  Somhras,  and  by  nature  misanthropical, 
though  philosopliic  and  magnanimous  in  mind. 
That  was  a  failure.  Mr.  Shaw's  play  afforded 
to  him  the  part  of  Dick  Dudgeon,  a  humorous, 
reckless  youth,  the  terror  of  a  sober  New  Eng- 
land community.  The  play  of  "The  First  Viohn," 
based  on  the  novel  of  that  name  by  Jessie  Fother- 
gill,  enabled  him,  as  Eugene  Courvoisier,  to  set 
forth  a  romantic  ideal  of  manhness,  fortitude, 
and  noble  self-sacrifice,  in  a  winning  image  of 
gentle  personality.  The  most  popular  of  those 
three  new  plays  was  "The  Devil's  Disciple,"  wliich, 
when  introduced  on  the  New  York  stage,  in 
October,  1897,  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  had 
a  run  of  sixty-four  consecutive  performances.  He 
again  ventured,  several  times,  with  "Richard  III." 
in  the  course  of  this  period,  and  his  venture, — 
undertaken  with  gloomy  foreboding, — was,  to  his 
surprise  and  delight,  well  rewarded.  In  November, 
1896,  while  acting,  at  the  Garden  Theatre,  as 
Glo'ster,  he  wrote  to  a  friend: 


244  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

I  am  pleased  and  flattered  that  you  should  have  liked 
Richard — but  it  was  far  from  my  liking  that  evening.  I  do 
not  remember  when  I  have  felt  more  strange  and  out  of  place 
on  the  stage.  It  was  one  of  my  wooden  nights,  when  nothing 
less  than  two  cases  of  champagne  would  have  roused  me;  as 
they  were  not  handy — I  went  to  sleep ! 

What  a  hideous  profession  it  is,  that  compels  us  to  produce 
ourselves,  and  create,  when  we  are  "not  in  the  vein"!  There 
was,  too,  an  imbecile  brute  in  the  orchestra  who,  with  a  strong 
yellow  light  upon  his  countenance,  was  fatally  determined  upon 
bobbing  up  and  down  and  turning  over  sheets  of  music,  and 
he  always  did  so  just  as  I  was  going  off  into  a  trance.   .    .    . 

We  have  met,  so  far,  with  wonderful  and  imexpected  suc- 
cess. I  had  the  gravest  doubts  concerning  the  result,  when  I 
accepted  the  Garden  Theatre  arrangement.  The  house  has 
been  full,  every  night.  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say  that  / 
have  not!  .    .    . 


In  the  season  of  1897-'98  he  employed,  as  "man- 
ager," Albert  Marshman  Palmer  (1838-1905),  sar- 
castically alleging  a  vindictive  motive  for  that  ami- 
able action.  Palmer,  who  had  been  one  of  the  most 
successful  and  influential  of  theatrical  managers 
in  New  York,  was  infirm  in  health,  poor  in  cir- 
cumstances, and  broken  in  spirit,  and  Mansfield's 
purpose,  in  giving  him  emploj^ment,  was  that  of 
practical  kindness,  and  not  that  of  "vengeance,"  as 
he  grimly  stated  to  me  that  it  was.  Mansfield  did 
not  like  Palmer,  for  the  reason,  as  he  intimated 
to  me,  that  when  a  member  of  the  Union  Square 
stock-company,    he    had    suffered   under   the    harsh 


J'Initiiiiriiiili    I'll   i^driiuij.    Xcii-    Vdil: 

ALBERT  M.  PALMER 


A.    M.    PALMER  245 

exercise  of  that  manager's  authority.  But  Mans- 
field was  kind-hearted,  and  he  did  not  often 
cherish  enmity.  He  spoke  only  the  truth  of  him- 
self when  he  said  that  he  was  "sorry  for  old  people," 
and  he  was  exceptional,  as  the  world  goes,  in  remem- 
bering that  persons  who,  in  the  noon  of  their  ability 
and  opportunit}^  have  done  much  and  good  service, 
are  entitled  to  consideration  in  the  decadence  of 
their  powers  and  fortunes,  and  in  the  twihght  of 
life.  It  was  characteristic,  likewise,  of  his  con- 
tradictory, perverse  nature  to  ascribe  to  himself 
a  bad  motive  for  doing  a  good  deed.  Palmer 
became,  in  fact,  his  agent,  in  wliich  capacity  sev- 
eral other  persons  were  also  employed  at  the  same 
time.  But  Mansfield  managed  his  affairs  himself, 
and,  to  the  last,  permitted  no  interference  with  his 
business  schemes  and  policy. 

The  theme  of  "The  First  Viohn"  had  long 
been  attractive  to  him,  the  peculiarly  German  sen- 
timent and  atmosphere  of  the  story,  no  doubt, 
appealing  strongly  to  his  German  taste.  That 
theme,  and  many  others,  we  had  discussed,  and 
I  had  named  to  him  various  plays  that  it  seemed 
practicable  to  revive.  Some  of  his  comments 
exhibit  his  astute  consideration  of  dramatic  mate- 
rial and  his  thorough  practical  knowledge  of  liis 
profession : 


246  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

104  W.  80th  Street,  New  York, 

March  5,   1897. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Thank  you  for  your  kind  letter  and  all  your  kindly  interest. 

I  believe,  with  you,  that  " "  is  a  good  thing  to  do, 

and  I  will  underline  it  for  next  season.   .    .    . 

"The  Man  o'  Airlie"  will  do  as  it  is. 

Perhaps,  if  a  good  play  were  written  around  Ohenreizer,  it 
might  be  advisable  to  do  it — altho'  I  begin  to  think  the  less  we 
do  disagreeable  things  the  better;  however,  all  depends  on  the 
play,  does  it  not?  "No  Thoroughfare"  strikes  me  as  being  a 
bad  play.   .    .    . 

"Yorick's  Love"  will  need  re-writing;  it  is  talky  to  a  degree, 
and,  moreover,  a  mistake,  to  my  thinking,  has  been  made, 
in  placing  the  period  in  Shakespeare's  time.  There  is  no  change 
of  costume  for  the  Tragedy,  and  the  spectator  is  puzzled, 
thereupon,  to  know  whether  the  scene  is  being  acted  on  the 
stage  of  the  Globe,  before  an  audience,  or  what  not. 

Concerning  the  Du  Maurier  story,  now  running  in  Harper's — 
I  fancy  that  has  already  been  disposed  of,  and  grabbed  by  some 
manager ;  yet  there  can  be  no  harm  in  trying  to  secure  the  rights. 

"The  First  Violin"  is  safe  to  do  well,  with  a  fairly  good 
version — with  Eugene  as  a  character,  and  the  love-story  strong. 
I  don't  think  we  want  much  singing  or  piano-playing.  Unless 
these  are  done  by  a  Master  (and  I  am  none),  they  are  best 
left  alone.  .  .  .  It  is  not  an  easy  subject  (for  a  play). 
Everything  depends  upon  the  character  of  Courvoisier.  I 
think  he  ought  to  be  made  an  actual  and  a  strong  type — but 
how,  I  cannot  tell.   ..."  R.  M. 

Two  or  three  plays  on  "The  First  Violin"  were 
critically  examined  by  him  and  were  rejected,  but 
at  last  he  obtained  one  that  he  deemed  satisfactory 
by  making  it  himself,  in  cooperation  with  Mr.  J.  I.  C. 
Clarke.    That  piece  was  first  acted,  April  18,  1898, 


USE    OF   MUSIC  247 

at  the  Hollis  Street  Theatre,  Boston,  and  a  week 
later  was  brought  to  the  Garden  Theatre,  New 
York,  where  it  had  a  prosperous  career  of  five  weeks. 
The  pen  name  assumed  by  the  actor,  on  that  occa- 
sion, was  Meridan  Phelps.  JNIansfield's  protest  as 
to  "singing  or  piano-playing," — an  embelHshment 
entirely  appropriate  to  a  play  about  a  musician, — 
was  prompted  by  an  odd  notion  of  his  that  by  using 
those  expedients  he  would  too  much  "entertain" 
his  audience,  and  thus  detract  from  the  estimation 
in  wliich  he  wished  to  be  held  as  an  actor.  He  knew 
perfectly  well  the  peculiar  value  of  music,  when 
rightly  used,  in  association  wdth  drama,  and  he  was 
Hkewise  aware  of  his  exceptional  ability  as  a  musi- 
cian. But  he  had  once  been  an  "entertainer,"  and 
decidedly  he  wished  not  again  to  appear  in  that 
capacity  or  to  do  anything  to  invite  that  designation. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  he  would  use  music,  both  vocal 
and  instrumental,  and  his  use  of  it  would  be  superbly 
effective,  arousing  lively  dehght  and  winning  whole- 
hearted applause;  but  at  such  times  he  would  view 
the  result  with  mixed  emotions,  being  at  once  irri- 
tated and  gratified  by  the  enthusiastic  admiration 
that  his  musical  accomplishment  had  evoked.  Music, 
accordingly,  was  not  made  conspicuous  in  his  pre- 
sentation of  "The  First  Viohn." 

It  seems  strange,  in  the  retrospect,  that  Mans- 


248  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

field  did  not  produce  "Othello."  At  almost  any  time 
in  his  career  a  production  of  that  play  would  have 
commanded  public  attention,  and,  even  when  he 
was  most  loath  to  approach  a  heavy  undertaking, 
"Othello"  did,  sometimes,  come  into  his  mind  as  an 
alternative.  After  he  had  become  recognized  and 
established  as  the  leader  of  the  American  stage, — 
a  position  which,  in  later  years,  was  generally  con- 
ceded to  him, — a  revival  of  that  tragedy,  with  alter- 
nate assumptions  of  Othello  and  lago,  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  expedient  for  him,  and,  probably, 
it  would  have  prospered:  for,  terrible  though  it  is, 
and  inexpressibly  pathetic  and  cruelly  harrowing  to 
the  feelings,  that  play,  technically  considered,  as  a 
piece  of  dramatic  construction,  is  the  greatest  in 
our  language,  and  it  provides  boundless  opportuni- 
ties for  acting,  and  exerts  a  tremendous  influence 
upon  an  audience.  Mansfield's  active  spirit  was  ever 
chafing  under  the  ardent  desire  of  doing  fine  tilings, 
and  many  were  the  projects  that  he  considered 
(1897),  pursued  for  a  while,  and  then  cast  aside. 
More  than  once  he  thought  of  acting  Hamlet,  but 
from  that  undertaking  I  earnestly  dissuaded  him. 
Hamlet  is  a  part  to  which  he  was  entirely  unsuited, 
and,  happily,  he  never  experimented  with  it,  though 
several  times  he  had  almost  determined  to  announce 
that  he  would  play  it: 


VALJEAN  249 

104  W.  80th  Street,  New  York, 

November  11,  1897. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Will  you  dine  here  with  me  next  Sunday  evening,  at  seven? 
It  is  necessary  I  should  see  you — and  I  can't  get  over  to  the 
island  you  inhabit. 

Life  is  full  of  vexations,  trials  and  disappointments — nothing 
survives  but  the  memory;  and  let  it  be  the  memory  of  happy 
hours !   .    .    . 

We   put   " "   into   rehearsal.      It's   too    deadly — it 

won't  do ! — we'd  starve ! !  I  want  a  version  of  "Henry  V.,"  and 
some  day  I'll  have  to  do  Hamlet.  You  understand,  the 
living  will  do  these  things.  It's  expected.  You  may  as  well 
accept  these  things  as  necessary  evils — and  let  me  have  a  good 
version,  and  coach  me.  At  present  I  know  nothing  about  it. 
Say  Sunday.'' 

Yours  ever, 

R.  M. 


Another  subject  for  a  play  upon  which  he  medi- 
tated was  Victor  Hugo's  great  novel,  "Les  Mis^ra- 
bles."  That  story,  as  all  readers  know,  is  won- 
derfully interesting,  profoundly  humanitarian,  and 
inexpressibly  pathetic,  but  practically  it  is  not 
dramatic.  A  play  based  upon  it  was  submitted 
to  his  attention,  but  ultimately  he  decided  that  the 
part  of  Valjean  would  prove  gloomy  and  dreary, 
besides  being  an  exhaustive  tax  upon  his  strength, 
and  so  he  wisely  relinquished  the  idea  of  acting  it. 
His  views  relative  to  heavy  productions  on  the 
stage  were  expressed  to  me,  in  reference  to  that 


250  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

piece,  which,  indeed,  I  had  tried  to  edit  for  his  use, 
when  he  was  considering  the  subject: 

My  Dear  Old  Fellow:— 

I  do  not  think  that  I  could  undertake  a  heroic  part,  and  I 
could  not  put  on  an  expensive  production — nothing  like  Paris 
during  the  Revolution,  and  with  such  scenes  as  a  fight  at  the 
barricades  would  entail.  And  then  Five  Acts  and  a  Prologue — 
I  am  afraid  we  won't  find  any  audience  to  stand  that,  no  mat- 
ter how  good  the  play  may  be — unless  the  acts  are  very  short. 

We  never  commence  in  New  York  until  8.30,  and  you  know 
we  must  be  out  at  eleven.  We  allow  seven  minutes  for  the 
setting  of  a  scene — altho',  in  these  days,  it  generally  takes  12. 
Therefore,  the  modern  play-goer  gets,  practically,  one  and  a 
half  hours  of  solid  play !  It  is  on  this  account,  partly,  that 
I  have  been  so  strenuously  opposing  productions,  of  late.  This 
scenery  is  ruining  me — scenery,  and  dresses,  and  heaps  of 
people!  Here  I  am  with  a  salary  list  of  $1,800  a  week.  By 
April  I  shall  have  paid  out  $53,000  in  salaries  alone! 

If  we  were  to  play  only  in  New  York  or  in  London — with 
occasional  trips  into  the  larger  cities  of  the  Provinces,  I  should 
be  all  right,  and  able  to  produce  many  plays  finely,  but  I  go 
from  Oshkosh  to  Kalamazoo — I  have  no  abiding  place,  and  I 
live  on  the  railroad  track !  The  railway  expenses  for  people 
and  scenery  are  enormous;  railroads  last  week,  $1,256!  If  I 
am  ever  to  make  money  I  must  follow  Jefferson's  example,  and 
find  a  powerful  character  with  an  inexpensive  cast,  and  no 
scenery. 

A  really  fine  play  may  run  to  decent  business  for  one  month 
in  New  York — all  the  rest  is  a  loss  and  an  advertisement  for 
the  Provinces — and  they  no  longer  accept  a  New  York  verdict 
— they  judge  for  themselves,  and  the  little  writers  of  the  local 
papers  are  striving  to  form  local  judgment. 

If  we  want  to  make  money  we  must  have  a  great  character, 
in  the  simplest  setting.     And  I  do  not  desire  to  appear  always 


INCUBUS    OF    SCENERY  251 

as  an  old  man — I  want  a  simple  story,  and  a  strong  love 
interest,  and  no  scenery.  I  must  use  my  youth  whilst  it  lasts — 
it  is  nearly  gone — and  convince  the  girls  that  I  know  how  to 
make  love,  and  show  them  that  I  have  some  fire  and  passion. 
I  shall  be  in  New  York  in  three  weeks,  and  we  look  forward  to 
seeing  you. 

Yours  ever, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

Mansfield's  disapproval  of  the  use  of  elaborate, 
heavy,  and  costly  scenery  was,  unquestionably, 
judicious,  because  the  investiture  of  a  play  should 
always  be  subordinated  to  its  intrinsic  interest  and 
dramatic  power,  meaning,  and  value.  It  happened, 
however,  strangely  enough,  that  his  final  relief  from 
a  crushing  burden  of  debt,  and  likewise  his  acquisi- 
tion of  almost  unrivalled  popularity  throughout  the 
country,  ensued  from  a  production  of  the  heaviest 
kind  and  a  play  of  ephemeral  interest.  A  little 
while  before  "Valjean"  was  suggested  to  him, — 
mention  of  Hugo's  novel  having  been  made  because 
of  his  known  desire  for  great  and  impressive  sub- 
jects,— he  had  written  to  me: 

I  am  THE  man — and  I  intend  to  stay  there,  I  have  no  small 
ambitions,  and  if  I  find  it  impossible  to  do  good  and  noble 
work  I  shall  do  none  at  all.  My  purposes  are  to  present  great 
historical  plays,  to  depart  from  tradition,  to  instruct  while  I 
entertain.  I  have  in  view  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  Frederick  the 
Great,  Henry  the  Eighth  (not  Shakespeare's),  and,  for  lighter 
work,  I  shall  present  fairy  tales   for  children,  but  fairy  tales 


252  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

that  have   a   powerful   moral,   such   as    "The    Man   Without   a 
Shadow."     I  need  new  plays — that's  all! 


Early  in  1898,  while  prosperous  with  "The  Devil's 
Disciple"  and  while  preparing  to  produce  "The 
First  Violin,"  he  heard  of  the  success  that  Constant 
Coquelin  had  achieved  abroad  with  "Cyrano  de 
Bergerac,"  and  he  considered  the  expediency  of 
offering  to  his  public  an  English  version  of  that 
French  drama.  His  season  in  New  York  ended  on 
June  14,  and  in  July  he  went  to  London,  where  he 
saw,  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  the  performance  of 
that  play,  given  by  Coquelin  and  a  French  com- 
pany. Whatever  doubt  he  might  have  entertained 
as  to  the  feasibility  of  acting  the  Rostand  romance  in 
English  was  dispelled,  and,  returning  to  America, 
he  immediately  began  active  preparations  for  its 
presentment.  It  was  not  protected  by  American 
copyright,  and  he  could  not  acquire  the  exclusive 
control  of  it,  but  he  hoped  and  expected  to  prevail 
in  holding  it,  by  his  priority,  his  commanding  posi- 
tion, and  the  splendor  of  scenic  adornment  with 
which  he  would  invest  it.  The  result  measurably 
justified  his  expectation.  "Cyrano  de  Bergerac"  was 
produced  by  him  at  the  Garden  Theatre,  New  York, 
on  October  3,  1898,  and  it  proved  an  affluent, 
unequivocal  success.     On  the  same  night,  in  Phila- 


CYRANO  253 

delphia,  another  version  of  the  play  was  produced 
by  Augustin  Daly, — Ada  Rehan  acting  Roxane, 
and  Mr.  Charles  Richman  acting  Cyrano;  and  soon  a 
bounteous  crop  of  bulbous-snouted  lovers  over- 
spread the  stage,  as  if  some  Cadmus  had  been  sow- 
ing noses  instead  of  dragon's  teeth  all  over  the 
land.  Mansfield  retained  Cyrano  in  his  repertory 
for  more  than  a  year,  acting  it  almost  continu- 
ously, and  drawing  crowds  of  interested  spectators 
wherever  he  appeared.  It  was  not  until  December, 
1899,  that  he  deemed  it  advisable  to  revert  to  selec- 
tions from  the  repertory  in  which  he  had  already 
been  accepted. 

The  germ  of  the  central  idea  contained  in  "CjTano 
de  Bergerac"  could  have  been  found  in  Balzac's  novel 
of  "Modeste  Mignon":  at  all  events,  it  occurs  there. 
The  heroine  of  that  fiction  begins  a  correspondence 
with  Canalis,  who  turns  the  affair  over  to  his  sec- 
retary, L,a  Brier e,  and  the  latter,  in  the  assumed 
personality  of  his  patron,  makes  a  noble  showing  of 
himself,  and  fascinates,  and  ultimately  wins,  the 
lady.  Rostand's  play  is  not  directly  based  on  Bal- 
zac's novel, — since  it  uses  a  different  set  of  char- 
acters, and  illustrates  its  theme  in  a  different  way 
and  pursues  it  to  a  different  conclusion.  But  the 
theme  has  been  exhausted  by  Balzac,  whose  treat- 
ment of  it  is  exceedingly  felicitous.     The  late  Mr. 


254  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

Paul  Leicester  Ford,  long  an  esteemed  friend  of 
Mansfield's,  treated  the  same  postulate,  in  a  modi- 
fied manner,  in  a  composition  called  "The  Story  of 
an  Untold  Love."  Still  another  tale  relative  to  this 
idea  was  written,  many  years  ago,  by  Mrs.  Frank 
McCarthy,  entitled  "Wanted — a  Soul."  Mansfield's 
production  of  "Cyrano"  conferred  the  "luxury  of 
woe"  on  thousands  of  such  persons  as  are  inter- 
ested in  the  troubles  of  true  love.  Its  course,  as 
usual,  did  not  run  smooth.  In  January,  1899,  Mans- 
field, when  acting  in  Chicago,  was  sued,  conjointly 
with  Edmond  Rostand,  for  royalties  on  "Cyrano 
de  Bergerac,"  and  was  enjoined  from  further 
presentment  of  the  play,  but  later  the  restriction  was 
removed.  The  plaintiff  in  the  suit  was  Mr.  Samuel 
Eberly  Gross,  who  charged  that  Rostand's  play 
was  a  plagiarism  of  a  drama  by  him,  called  "The 
Merchant  Prince  of  Cornville,"  which,  he  declared, 
had  been  acted  at  the  Novelty  Theatre,  London, 
as  long  ago  as  November  11,  1896,  when  Rostand 
might  have  seen  it  or  heard  of  it.  The  decision  in 
the  case,  ratified,  by  Judge  C.  C.  Kohlsaat,  in  the 
United  States  Circuit  Court  for  the  Northern 
District  of  Illinois,  was  favorable  to  Mr.  Gross. 
Careful  study  of  Mr.  Gross's  play  and  comparison 
of  it  with  that  of  M.  Rostand,  did  not  then, 
and   does  not  now,   discover  any  adequate   reason 


Photograph  by  E.   \V.  Uistcd,  A'cr-   York 

RICHARD  MANSFIELD  IN  1898 


ROSTAND  255 

for  supposing  that  M.  Rostand  had  an  acquaintance 
with  Mr.  Gross's  drama,  when  he  wrote  "Cyrano  de 
Bergerac."  The  protagonist  of  the  play  was  one 
of  his  countrymen,  recorded  and  described  in  French 
biography,  and  the  learning  of  M.  Rostand  had  so 
impressed  Coquelin  as  to  cause  that  actor  to  say 
"He  knows  everything."  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  he  possessed  ample  knowledge  of  the  history 
of  his  native  land  and  was  under  no  necessity  of 
seeking  inspiration  or  information  about  Cyrano 
from  a  writer  in  Chicago.  The  probable  indebted- 
ness of  M.  Rostand  to  Balzac  has  already  been 
intimated.  The  author  to  whom,  obviously,  he  is 
indebted  is  Shakespeare.  Mansfield,  however,  was 
obliged  to  pay  royalties  to  Mr.  Gross,  for  the  use 
of  M.  Rostand's  drama,  and  that  payment  he 
made,  as  long  as  he  continued  to  act  in  it. 


IX. 

1899    TO    1906. 

With  the  production  of  "Cyrano  de  Bergerac" 
the  tide  of  pecuniary  emolument  turned  in  Mans- 
field's favor,  and  in  his  favor,  thereafter,  it  con- 
tinued to  flow.  No  play  that  he  subsequently  pro- 
duced could  be  accounted  a  total  failure,  while 
several  of  his  later  productions  were  abundantly 
remunerative.  "The  Misanthrope,"  indeed,  did  not 
prove  popular;  but  he  did  not  lose  money  by  it, 
and  his  recourse  to  Alceste  was  advantageous  to 
his  professional  reputation.  "Don  Carlos"  was  not 
largely  attractive;  but  the  revival  of  it  gratified 
the  German  public,  and  by  his  picturesque,  pas- 
sionate impersonation  of  its  hero  he  augmented 
his  renown.  "Peer  Gynt"  did  not  obtain  the 
lucrative  acceptance  that  he  had  hoped  for  it, — 
thinking,  as  he  did,  that  the  public  was  eager  for 
sometliing  bizarre;  but  his  fine  acting  sustained 
even  that  dreary  burden  for  a  httle  while,  his  popu- 
larity averting  disaster  from  the  representation  of 
nebulous  gammon.  The  other  productions  that  he 
made  were  munificently  compensated.    With  "Henry 

256 


PROSPERITY  257 

v.,"  "Beaucaire,"  "Julius  Csesar,"  "Old  Heidel- 
berg," and  "Ivan  the  Terrible"  he  was  triumphant, 
and  in  Iiis  later  years  his  well-tried  repertory  was 
"a  tower  of  strength."  A  serious  illness  interrupted 
his  industry  early  in  1899,  and  kept  him  from  the 
stage  for  three  weeks,  February  13  to  March  6, 
and,  in  the  spring  of  1900,  he  was  obhged  to  close 
his  season  earlier  than  he  had  intended,  because  of 
a  disabling  affection  of  the  throat;  but  he  met  with 
no  other  serious  impediment.  The  prosperity  that 
then  attended  his  professional  labor  not  only  enabled 
him,  as  time  passed,  to  pay  all  his  debts, — an  adjust- 
ment of  worldly  affairs  in  which  he  found  great 
satisfaction, — but  to  accumulate  a  considerable 
property,  which  he  destined  for  the  wife  and  child 
whom  he  idolized.  His  view  of  himself  as  a  man 
of  business  was  ingenuously  expressed  to  me,  about 
that  time,  1899,  on  an  occasion  when  I  had  ven- 
tured to  remonstrate  with  him,  upon  some  apparent 
extravagance:  "You  are  mistaken,"  he  said;  "I  am 
not  extravagant.  Some  of  the  greatest  financiers 
have  been  extravagant, — witness  Fouque.  But  I 
am  not.  Most  of  the  persons  whom  I  employ  think 
I  make  money  easily,  and  that  there  will  be 
extravagance,  and  that  money  is  to  be  easily  made 
out  of  me.  But  they  are  mistaken.  I  am,  in  fact, 
a  very  close  calculator,  or  I  should  not  be  ahve 


258  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

to-day.  I  am  always  ready  to  give  freely,  but  I 
can  only  do  that  by  watching  closely  every  dollar 
that  I  earn,  or  that  is  rightly  mine,  and  I  do  so." 
That  was  an  amiable  delusion.  He  did  not  "watch 
his  dollars," — unless,  indeed,  he  watched  their  flight. 
"There  goes  a  man,"  he  said  to  me,  one  day  when 
we  were  strolHng  in  the  avenue,  "whom  I  could 
send  to  prison.  He  is  a  thief.  He  has  stolen  at 
least  $50,000  of  my  money."  Mansfield's  losses 
were  large.  During  his  theatrical  seasons  in  Eng- 
land, in  1888-'89,  as  certified  by  himself,  they 
amounted  to  $167,000.  Between  that  time  and  1895 
he  suffered  other  heavy  losses, — although  also  he 
earned  much  money,  and  "paid  as  he  went."  His 
sickness  in  1895  cost  him  $80,000,  but,  as  he  then 
wrote,  "I  have  saved  my  theatre," — ^meaning  the 
Garrick.  He  had  not  saved  it  for  long,  however, 
and  while  he  continued  to  retain  it  his  losses  were 
increased.  In  short,  he  must  have  carried,  for 
some  time,  a  debt  verging  to  nearly  half  a  million. 
By  1901,  through  one  agent  alone,  he  had  paid 
more  than  $200,000,  squaring  accounts  with  various 
creditors,  but  it  was  not  till  the  end  of  the  season 
of  1904-'05  that  he  was  completely  clear  of  debt 
and  could  think  of  his  possessions  as  free  from 
encumbrance.  Those  facts  indicate  the  magnitude 
of  his  ultimate  professional  popularity  and  of  the 


FIDELITY  259 

compensation  that  he  obtained  for  his  professional 
exertions.  Prosperity  on  the  stage  had  enabled  him 
to  make  profitable  investments  that  helped  to 
unshackle  liim.  It  was  prosperity  richly  deserved; 
for  Mansfield  made  splendid  productions;  he  put 
forth  all  his  strength;  and,  in  dealing  with  the  pub- 
he,  he  was  never  niggard  of  either  his  money  or 
himself:  he  was  never  known  to  slight  a  perform- 
ance, however  trivial  the  part  that  he  assumed  or 
however  unimportant  the  place  in  which  he  hap- 
pened to  be  acting.  The  noble  achievements  of 
his  later  years  imply  an  opulent  yet  sorrowful  sug- 
gestion of  the  great  things  that  he  would  have 
done,  if  sufficient  wealth  had  come  to  him  earlier 
in  life.  No  actor  has  ever  proclaimed  a  more 
generous  ideal  of  management  than  Mansfield 
avowed,  on  the  last  night  of  his  presentment  of 
''Richard  III.,"  at  Palmer's  Theatre,  in  1889. 
"What  I  take  from  the  public  with  one  hand,"  he 
said,  "I  will  give  back  with  the  other." 

A  German  proverb  declares  that  "Living  is  striv- 
ing." Up  to  the  point  where  he  gained  affluent 
financial  success  with  "Cyrano  de  Bergerac"  Mans- 
field's professional  life,  as  shown  in  many  details 
of  it  and  as  indicated  in  some  of  his  letters,  was 
one  of  incessant  toil,  carking  anxiety,  and  fretful 
contention.     From  that  point  onward,  although  liis 


260  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

high  endeavor  was  not  abated  nor  his  strenuous 
exertion  relaxed,  he  advanced  more  easily,  he 
acquired  more  sincerity,  he  dwelt  more  in  the  sun- 
shine, and  he  was  happier  than  before.  Success  did 
not  entirely  tranquillize  him  nor  remove  all  asperity 
from  his  character  and  manners :  no  man  ever  escapes 
from  himself:  but  it  made  him  more  gentle,  con- 
siderate, and  philosopliical,  and  gradually  it  turned 
his  thoughts,  and  perhaps  his  wishes,  toward  dis- 
continuance of  the  struggle.  In  one  of  his  letters 
to  me,  half  playful,  half  serious,  written  in  the 
season  of  1899-'00,  that  inchnation  was  indicated: 
"I  fully  realize  what  you  say  about  the  twilight  of 
our  lives,  but  some  of  us — and  you  are  one — have 
calciums  in  our  'in'ards,'  that  can  brilliantly  illumine 
our  days,  to  the  end.  Therefore,  be  of  good  cheer. 
I  should  greatly  Hke  to  see  you.  I  have  set  the 
limit  to  this  business — five  more  years,  and  then  a 
cottage,  and  honeysuckle,  and  jasmine,  and  all  the 
sweet  flowers  of  the  garden,  and  a  whiff  of  the 
ocean,  in  dear  old  England!  I  am  sick  to  death  of 
the  sawdust  that  the  doll  is  stuffed  with."  He  was, 
nevertheless,  still  eager  for  novelties.  "We  are, 
unfortunately,  without  a  new  play,"  he  wrote, 
"because  the  French  gentleman  (?),  to  whom  I  paid 
$5,500  for  a  play,  has  kept  my  money,  but  has 
delivered  no  MS,    These  foreign  people  treat  every- 


Pliotoyiapli  by  licutlin 


EDMOND  ROSTAND 


"KING   HENRY    V. "  261 

thing  about  us  with  great  contempt — excepting 
always  our  money."  The  disappointment  was  not 
without  its  compensation,  for  it  hastened  his  resort 
to  an  earlier  choice,  and  caused  him  once  more  to 
try  a  Shakespearean  revival.  The  imposing  his- 
torical play  of  "Henry  V.,"  which  had  not  been 
acted  in  New  York  since  1875, — when  Charles 
Calvert  produced  it,  at  Booth's  Theatre,  with  George 
Rignold  as  Kirig  Henry, — was  wisely  selected  for 
that  venture.  He  had  long  been  thinking  of  it.  "I 
am  very  anxious,"  he  wrote,  "that  you  should  edit 
a  playing  version  of  'Henry  V.'  Both  Charles 
Kean  and  Calvert  cut  the  play — notably  the  speeches 
of  Henry — all  to  pieces.  I  have  restored  all  the 
fine  passages.  I  desire,  particularly,  a  Preface 
from  your  pen.  Appleton  will  publish  the  book." 
It  seemed  to  me  best  that  he  should  himself  edit 
the  play  and  write  the  Preface,  since  that  labor, 
exacting  nice  discrimination  as  to  every  detail,  could 
not  fail  to  deepen  the  concentration  of  liis  thought 
upon  the  subject,  and  fortify  his  command  of  it. 
"I  am  more  sorry  than  I  can  say,"  he  answered, 
replying  to  my  refusal,  "that  you  cannot  under- 
take to  write  the  Introduction  to  our  version  of 
'Henry  V.,'  because,  just  at  tliis  time,  there  exists 
a  condition  of  affairs  the  like  of  wliich,  I  suppose, 
is  unknown  in  theatrical  liistory — and  it  would  be 


262  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

well  for  the  'bosses'  to  know  that  they  cannot  boss 
all  of  us.  We  have  had  unheard-of  trouble  in  stag- 
ing 'Henry  V.'  After  signing  the  contracts  for  the 
Garden,  the  Frohmans  arranged  with  Mr.  Sothern 
to  come  in,  for  a  fortnight,  before  us,  and  gave 
him  the  use  of  the  Theatre  throughout  the  entire 
summer.  We  have  been  forced  to  rehearse,  to  build, 
to  paint,  anywhere — even  in  Brooklyn!"  All 
obstacles  were  surmounted,  though,  and  on  October 
3,  1900,  at  the  Garden  Theatre,  New  York,  he 
accomphshed  a  magnificent  representation  of  that 
superb  drama,  acting  Henry  of.  Monmouth  for  the 
first  time,  and  giving  a  performance  of  extraordi- 
nary vigor,  variety,  and  beauty.  His  book  of  the 
play,  with  a  thoughtful,  interesting  Preface  and 
Notes,  by  himself,  and  with  Notes  on  the  Heraldry 
of  the  play,  by  Alfred  J.  Rodwaye,  F.R.H.S., 
was  published  in  the  same  season.  In  his  presenta- 
tion of  "Henry  V."  scrupulous  attention  was  given 
to  details,  yet,  strangely  enough,  in  the  Battle 
Scene,  during  the  early  performances,  the  royal 
standard  of  Great  Britain  was  reared,  a  banner  not 
adopted  till  nearly  three  hundred  years  after  Henry 
V.  had  been  laid  in  his  grave. 

The  season  of  1900-'01  was  devoted  exclusively 
to  "Henry  V.,"  and  then,  on  October  7,  1901, 
inaugurating  a  new  theatre  in  Philadelphia,  called 


"BEAUCAIRE"  263 

The  Garrick,  he  brought  out  a  new  play,  entitled 
"Beaucaire,"  which  had  been  made  for  liim  bj^  jNIr. 
Booth  Tarkington  and  Mrs.  E.  G.  Sutherland, 
and  in  that  he  gave  a  light,  bright,  charming  per- 
formance. The  play  was  derived  from  a  sparkling 
narrative,  largely  infused  with  colloquy,  by  Mr. 
Tarkington,  in  which,  contrary  to  custom  in  tales 
of  romance,  the  lover  renounces  his  idol,  upon  find- 
ing that  she  is  a  selfish,  worldly,  time-serving  woman, 
unworthy  of  love.  That  point  was  waived  in  the 
drama,  conformably  to  the  accepted  theory  that  "a 
happy  ending"  is  indispensable  to  a  love-story  on 
the  stage.  The  play  is  a  compound  of  the  usual 
conventional  incidents, — love,  misunderstanding, 
impediment,  peril,  rescue,  explanation,  -sdllainy 
defeated,  virtue  rewarded,  and  ultimate  connubial 
bliss.  It  provided  Mansfield  with  an  opportunity, 
which  he  ably  improved,  of  manifesting  liis  remark- 
able skill  in  light  comedy,  and  it  became  so  popu- 
lar that  he  was  enabled  to  use  it,  during  the  season 
of  1901-'02,  as  the  principal  feature  of  his  reper- 
tory. "Beaucaire"  was  presented  in  New  York 
for  the  first  time  on  December  2,  1901,  at  the  Herald 
Square  Theatre,  where  it  held  the  stage  till  January 
25,  1902,  and  thereafter  it  was  taken  on  a  tour, 
southward  as  far  as  New  Orleans  and  northward 
as  far  as  Montreal. 


264  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

New  St.  Charles,  New  Orleans, 
My  Dear  Winter: —  February  4,  1902. 

I   was  more  than  sorry  that  during  my  visit  to   New  York 
I  could  not  see  you — that  I  could  not  come  to  you  and  that  you 
could  not  come  to  me !     It  is  a  great  pity  that  two  hearts  that 
beat  as  .one  should  have  to  beat  so   far  apart! — And  that  we 
can't   smoke    churchwardens    and    guzzle    and    chatter    and    nod 
and  be  Goldsmith  and  Garrick  and  all  the  rest  of  it: — 
"I  where  the  lights  are  shining, 
You,  all  alone,  in  the  gloom." 
It's  time  we  had  a  little  fun ! 

Next  year — next  summer — I  go  abroad.  Beatrice  leaves 
shortly  for  England,  to  find  a  home — will  you  go  up  to  see 
her,  and  tell  her  about  places — you  know  all  about  it,  and 
can  give  her  the  most  valuable  advice.  It  is  to  be  a  cottage,  all 
our  own,  where  love  and  comfort  and  a  modest  competency 
are  to  attend  our  declining  days — without  regard  to  the  nobility 
and  gentry  of  the  neighborhood.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  you 
will  come  and  occasionally  sojourn  with  Micawher!  If  you'll 
come  to  us  in  England,  we  will  arrange  to  write  "The  Humorous 
Life  of  Mansfield,"  By  an  Eye-Witness. 

My  love  to  you, 

R.  M. 

The  purpose  of  establishing  a  permanent  home 
for  himself  in  England  had  long  been  in  liis  mind, 
but  it  was  never  fulfilled.  At  the  close  of  this  tour, 
which  ended  at  Montreal  on  July  4,  he  sailed  from 
that  port,  and  he  passed  several  weeks  at  Wey- 
bridge,  one  of  the  loveliest  retreats  in  the  lovely 
county  of  Surrey — a  land  that  lures  the  tired  mortal 
to  stay  in  it  forever.  In  the  meantime  he  thus 
cheerily  recorded  liis  doings  and  impressions. 


;  ■si.'TL^-.'  ' '.  >-iT^  -^•■■Ty3suT-'>p&fliieaHMSHSsHrHSi3rr-:wstr 


RICHARD  MANSFIELD 


"WORKING    FOR   MONEY"  265 

St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  St.  Louis, 

April   10,   1902. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Sorry  you  are  not  quite  all  right — but  I  suppose  California 
will  quickly  make  you  well.  Sorry  too  that  you  are  not  going 
to  England  this  summer.  Beatrice  will  be  sailing  on  the  sea 
before  you  get  this.  She  leaves  on  Saturday,  by  the  Minne- 
haha. She,  the  boy,  and  the  governess.  She  will  find  a  place 
in  England,  and  I  shall — D.  V. — join  her  in  July,  leaving  from 
Montreal,  where  I  close  my  season.  If  you  had  been  on  the 
other  side,  need  I  say  how  glad  we  should  have  been  to  have 
had  a  long  visit  from  you.'' 

I  will  send  your  letter  to  B.  and  perhaps  some  of  the 
places  you  mention  may  attract  her — but  I  fancy  she  will  want 
to  be  nearer  London.  Some  of  the  so-called  authors  want  to 
interview  me  about  plays — ^which  become  more  and  more  diffi- 
cult to  obtain.  No  one  knows  what  to  produce.  Shakespeare's 
plays  have  to  be  so  garnished  that  the  cost  of  production  and 
the  subsequent  cost  of  transportation  of  scenery  and  company 
eat  up  all  profits.  In  London  Mr.  Tree  is  producing  "spectacles" 
only.  "Ulysses"  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  Christmas  pantomime. 
"Herod"  was  disgusting,  and  "Paola  and  Francesca"  futile. 
Also,  as  there  are  no  actors  in  England,  there  are  no  authors. 

Irving  tells  me  he  will  do  nothing  new.  I  am  thinking  only 
of  saving  enough  money  for  B.  and  the  boy  to  live  on.  If 
nothing  good  comes  along  I  shall  revive,  next  season,  a  large 
repertory  of  plays,  tvell  done  as  to  scenery  and  costumes. 
This  will,  probably,  pay  as  well  as  anything  else,  and,  after 
all  is  said,  we  are  working  for  money,  and  if  it  doesn't  come 
in  we  are  simply  not  successful. 

is  sailing  (and  so  is  Mrs.  )  on  the  Minnehaha, 

with  B.  and  the  boy,  so  B.  will  not  want  for  company.     Mrs. 

is  an  energetic  Lady  who  is  always  starting  some  new 

enterprise   and   then   dropping  it.      She   coquettes   with   Fortune 
and  is  so  fickle  that  she  is  eternally  dropping  the  bone  to  pick 


266  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

up  the  shadow.  Her  last  venture  was  a  millinery  establish- 
ment— her  next  may  be  a  livery  stable  or  a  Tea  Garden.  How- 
ever it  keeps  her  amused,  and  guessing! 

I  hear  Miss  Adams  is  to  play  Juliet,  all  next  season:  Sothern 
Hamlet,  Goodwin  Othello  and  lago,  Hackett  King  Lear,  and 
Faversham  Gilbert  Parker's  "Right  of  Way/'  and  all  the  novels 
of  the  season  are  to  be  dramatized.  The  Bible  (The  Syndicate 
has  discovered  that  this  book  is  well-known)  is  being  largely 
employed  for  Dramatic  purposes.  /  have  had  three  plays 
about  David — who  seems  to  have  been  a  very  disreputable 
person — and  even  the  Lambs  Club  has  produced  a  comic  opera 
on  the  subject  of  our  Lord!  I  don't  know  what  will  happen 
next!     The  success  of  "Ben  Hur"  has  set  these  people  going. 

Cheer  up!  and  believe  me  always  yours, 

R.   M. 


On  Tour,  Duluth, 

June  23,  1902. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  hear  from  you.  This  season  has 
been  somewhat  unduly  protracted  by  fat  managers  who  sit 
and  smoke  cigars  and  "book  dates."  I  have  been  travelling  for 
weeks  and  weeks — sometimes  I  have  been  bumped  for  thirty- 
six  hours  at  a  stretch. 

A  letter  which  I  wrote  to  "The  Herald"  regretting  the 
publicity  accorded  every  wretched  "faker"  who  doesn't  want  to 
work,  or  can't  act — and  thus  encouraging  incompetency,  idle- 
ness, and  cheap  advertisement — has  been  largely  circulated 
amongst  "the  profession,"  and  "The  Herald"  has  requested 
Mr.  Tree's  opinion,  etc.,  etc.,  as  to  the  decadence  of  the  stage. 
Mr.  Tree  and  the  rest  of  that  lot,  both  in  England  and  here, 
are  of  the  opinion  that  /  am  an  ass  (in  which  I  entirely  agree 
with  them!)  and  that  nobody  in  the  world  ever  lived  who  could 
act  as  finely  as  Tree  and  his  lot  do !  "The  Herald"  has  been 
very    careful    to    avoid    asking    the    opinion    of    anybody    that 


"THE    GRANGE"  267 

knows  anything.  Irving,  Wyndham,  Coquelin,  have  all  recently 
bemoaned  the  fact  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  secure  even  a 
decent  actor  or  actress,  for  a  reasonable  compensation. 

I  am  trying  to  make  up  a  cast  for  "Julius  Caesar,"  but  it  is 
very  difficult.  I  shall  have  to  play  Brutus.  And  he  is,  after 
all  is  said — the  man. 

I  am  sailing  from  Montreal  on  July  5,  on  the  Allan  Steamer 
(the  name  of  which  is  uncertain,  as,  just  as  soon  as  I  have 
engaged  a  passage  on  one  of  the  line  it  is  instantly  engaged  by 
the  British  Government  to  import  Boers  or  deport  mules!). 
However,  I  sail  on  the  5th  of  July,  and,  if  you  are  on  the 
dock,  with  your  bag,  early — very  early — I  will  take  you  along 
with  me.  I  spend  a  couple  of  months  at  Wey bridge  on  the 
Thames. 

Yours  always, 

Richard. 


On  his  return  from  England,  in  August,  1902, 
he  went  to  New  London,  Conn.,  and,  taking  a  fancy 
for  that  picturesque,  interesting  old  town  (the  region 
was,  many  years  ago,  declared  by  Humboldt  to  be 
exceptionally  blessed,  as  to  soil,  air,  and  water,  with 
all  the  natural  conducements  to  perfect  health), 
he  bought  the  first  of  the  three  estates  there  of 
which  ultimately  he  was  the  possessor,  and,  styling 
it  "The  Grange,"  determined  that  it  should  be  his 
final  residence,  and  soon,  by  alteration  and  embellish- 
ment, converted  it  into  a  veritable  Baronial  Hall, 
such  as  he  had  often  dreamed  of  possessing,  in  some 
peaceful  English  rural  nook,  "far  from  the  mad- 
ding crowd's  ignoble  strife." 


268  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

Mansfield's  passionate  desire  to  be  everywhere 
recognized  as,  absolutely  and  indisputably,  the  great- 
est actor  of  his  time  was  in  no  respect  abated,  but 
rather  was  intensified,  by  every  success  that  he 
achieved,  and,  to  the  end  of  his  days,  his  ambition 
was  never  satisfied  nor  his  mind  ever  wholly  at  rest. 
Supremacy  in  the  impersonation  of  the  great  char- 
acters in  Shakespeare  was  the  prerogative  at  which 
he  aimed.  He  was  not  an  imitator  of  anybody, 
but,  like  many  other  of  the  actors  of  his  generation, 
he  had  observed  the  careers  of  Edwin  Booth  and 
Henry  Irving,  and,  unlike  the  mere  servile  imitators 
of  those  chieftains,  he  had  early  determined  not 
only  to  emulate  but,  if*  possible,  to  surpass  them, 
in  breadth  of  policy,  audacity  of  adventure,  and 
scope,  variety,  and  importance  of  acliievement.  He 
had  noted  Booth's  wisdom  in  a  steadfast  adherence 
to  Shakespeare,  and  he  had  considered  the  success 
attendant  upon  Irving's  choice  of  weird  characters 
and  great  historic  themes.  In  itself  original  and 
inclined  to  take  new  paths,  his  mind  was  much 
stimulated,  as  well  as  instructed,  by  those  examples, 
and  his  quest  for  untried  subjects  and  for  parts 
not  less  novel  than  important  was,  accordingly, 
never  pretermitted.  Several  characters,  out  of  the 
beaten  track,  have  already  been  named,  upon  which 
his  fancy  looked  with  an  approving  eye,  but  wliich 


o 

<! 

o 


"JULIUS    C^SAR"  269 

he  could  not  assume,  for  lack  of  plays  in  which  to 
present  them.     At  one  time  he  was  eager  to  act 
Miles  Standish.     At  another  time  he  studied  Con- 
rad, in  an  English  version  of  the  Italian  play  of 
"Morte  Civile,"  by  P.  Giacometti, — ^made  known  on 
the  American  stage  by  the   famous   Italian   actor, 
Salvini,   in    1873, — but,    after   putting   that    drama 
into    rehearsal,    he    found    it    unsatisfactory,    and 
dropped  it.     At  still  another  time  his  fancy  turned 
to  Charles  the  Second.    While  performing  in  "Beau- 
caire,"  which  he  viewed  as  httle  more  than  a  pleasing 
bagatelle,  he  was  conscious  of  the  longing  for  higher 
employment,  and  he  determined  to  act  Brutus,  in 
Shakespeare's  great  play  of  "Julius  Csesar."     His 
revival  of  that  tragedy  was   accompUshed,   at   the 
Grand  Opera  House,  Cliicago,  on  October  13,  1902, 
and  it  was  received  with  enthusiastic  favor.     Writ- 
ing to  me  about  it,  ten  days  later,  he  said:  "Our 
business  is  enormous.     We  have  not  had  a  seat  to 
sell  this  entire  week,  and  it  is  only  a  question,  every 
evening,  how  many  people  will  consent  to  stand  up." 
His  presentment  of  "Julius  Caesar"  was,  in  the 
matter  of  scenic  investiture,  the  best,  of  that  play, 
ever   made   in   America, — many   of   the   sets   being 
those  that  were,  originally,  devised  and  painted  by 
Sir  Lawrence  Alma-Tadema,   for   Henry   Irving's 
London  Lyceum  production  of  "Coriolanus," — the 


270  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

thirteenth  and  last  Shakespearean  play  brought  out 
by  that  actor.  Mansfield's  embodiment  of  Brutus 
was  original  in  ideal  and  fine  in  execution,  the 
image  of  a  noble  person,  fanatically  centred  upon 
himself,  fatally  besieged  by  one  sacrificial,  delusive 
idea,  and  predestinate  to  ruin.  He  devoted  the 
entire  season  of  1902-'03  to  that  tragedy,  and  his 
practical  success  with  it  was  great.  He  brought  it 
to  the  capital  on  December  1,  1902,  appearing  at 
the  Herald  Square  Theatre,  and  he  acted  there  until 
January  17,  1903.  A  tour  of  many  cities  suc- 
ceeded, after  which  he  took  a  summer  rest,  partly 
in  his  villa  at  New  London,  and  partly  aboard  a 
yacht  which  he  had  recently  purchased. 

Shelter  Island,  Schooner  Amorita, 
My  Dear  Winter: —  June  23,  1903. 

I'm  sorry  you  have  gone, — or  rather  had  to  go, — to  California; 
for  the  fact  and  for  the  cause.  I  wanted  you  to  don  your  flan- 
nels, your  jauntiest  straw  hat,  stow  away  a  quid  in  your  cheek, 
and  do  the  rollicking  tar  with  me.  Not  that  I  have  been  rollick- 
ing. You  can't  rollick  much  in  a  steady  downpour  of  rain,  last- 
ing three  weeks,  with  intermittent  fog,  and  a  gale  that  came  very 
near  wrecking  us,  altho'  we  had  two  anchors  down.  I  man- 
aged to  fly  in  here  yesterday,  and  flying  it  was, — just  in  time 
to  save  my  skin!  for  it  has  been  blowing  great  guns  all  night 
and  all  the  morning.  But  it  is  jolly  to  lie  snug  in  my  cabin 
with  my  feet  considerably  higher  than  my  head,  a  pipe,  a  toddy, 
the  lamps  lighted,  the  wind  howling  in  the  rigging  and  the 
utter  impossibility  of  anybody  coming  aboard  to  bother  me, 
unless  they  swim  out.     Still   I   do  wish  the  sun  would   shine 


"OLD    HEIDELBERG"  271 

again.  If  it  stayed  like  this  always  it  would  be  the  end  of  all 
things,  for  all  would  fade  and  rot.  The  fruit  does  not  ripen 
and  the  flowers  are  pale  and  without  perfume. 

I  am  sorry,  sorry  about  Louis.  He  should  not  be  permitted 
to  worry  or  to  think  of  cares.  You  deserve  better,  much  better 
things.  .   .   .  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  or  him? 

For  my  part  my  plans  are  to  play  "Ivan  the  Terrible"  and 
"Alt  Heidelberg"  next  season. 

All  good  things  to  you  and  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

It  was  his  policy,  and  it  was  judicious,  to  alter- 
nate heavy  parts  with  light  ones,  and  the  choice  that 
he  made  of  a  play  to  follow  "Juhus  Caesar"  proved 
exceedingly  fortunate.  His  selection  was  "Old 
Heidelberg,"  in  which,  as  Prince  Henry,  he  gave 
a  lovely  performance, — one  which,  in  spirit  and 
spontaneity,  more  than  any  other  achievement 
of  his  career,  revealed  all  that  there  was  of 
essential  manliness  and  sweetness  in  his  nature. 
The  character  would  be  insignificant  if  it  were 
merely  shown,  for  it  is  one  that  imperatively  requires, 
in  a  special  sense,  impersonation.  Visible  presence, 
audible  speech,  motion,  and  "business"  often  suffice 
to  constitute  a  performance  and  make  known  a 
theatrical  fable.  Many  worthy  persons,  for  example, 
have  played  Hamlet,  without  ever  once  becoming 
identified  with  the  part  or  really  acting  it.  In  the 
character  of  Prince  Henry  there  is  an  intrinsic 
beauty  which  must  be  made  actual  in  the  representa- 


272  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

tion,  and  if  Mansfield  had  not  possessed  the  ele- 
mental attributes  of  nobility,  integrity,  and  virtuous 
affection,  he  could  not  have  caused  the  entirely 
delightful  effect  which  attended  his  revelation  of  it. 
"Old  Heidelberg,"  an  adaptation  from  the  German, 
was  produced  by  him,  on  October  12,  1903,  to 
inaugurate  the  Lyric  Theatre,  New  York,  then  first 
opened.  It  is  a  play  that  touches  life  on  the 
pathetic  side,  and  yet  provides  the  contrast  of  light 
and  cheer.  He  acted  in  it,  at  the  Lyric,  till  Novem- 
ber 7,  and  then  travelled  with  it, — all  the  while 
studying  and  preparing  the  far  more  powerful 
drama  of  "Ivan  the  Terrible." 

Union  Station,  Baltimore, 
My  Dear  Winter: —  February    1,    1904. 

.  .  .  Everybody  is  in  despair!  We  are  to  come  to  the  New 
Amsterdam  Theatre  in  New  York,  on  the  29th  of  this  month — 
to  present  some  old  plays  and  one  new — "Ivan  the  Terrible."  I 
do  wish  things  were  better  with  you:  livelier  and  more  hopeful, 
that  you  had  somebody  by  you  to  cheer  your  life!  work,  work, 
work,  and  no  play,  makes  Jack  a  dull  boy.  With  me  it  seems 
about  the  same  thing,  for  I  am  at  it  with  very  poor  results, 
from  early  till  late;  and  I  get  no  time  for  study,  which  is  the 
worst  feature  of  the  whole  business;  there  seems  to  be  an  end- 
less string  of  doubtful  humanity  waiting  to  interview  me  about 
everything  and  nothing.  There  is  more  talk  in  this  world  than 
is    good    for   it ! 

Well,  here's  luck  to  you ! 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


IVAN  273 

Mansfield's  quest  of  extraordinary  themes  for  dra- 
matic treatment  was  not  at  any  time  relaxed.  The 
literary  movement  which  is  represented  by  such 
writers  as  Ibsen,  JNIaeterlinck,  Sudermann,  and  the 
Italian  who  calls  himself  D'Annunzio  had  attracted 
his  attention  and,  to  a  slight  extent,  had  influenced 
his  professional  conduct.  He  did  not  wish  to  be 
extravagant,  but  he  did  wish  to  be  unusual.  I 
have  an  amused  remembrance  of  having  carefully 
refrained  from  directing  liis  attention  to  the  Emperor 
Julian,  whose  complex  and  deeply  interesting  char- 
acter, singular  aspect,  and  wonderful  career  might 
have  inspired  him  to  cause  the  composition  of  still 
another  of  those  ponderous  tragedies  of  Roman  his- 
tory wliich  repose  upon  our  book-shelves  hke  the 
huge  tombs  in  a  Scotch  necropolis.  "I  read  plays 
by  the  score,"  he  wrote:  "subjects  present  them- 
selves, and  are  discarded  only  to  give  place  to 
another  idea,  which  is  dismissed."  It  was  in  one 
of  those  moods  of  perplexity  that  he  finally  chose 
a  subject  from  the  liistory  of  Russia. 

The  presentment  of  Count  Alexis  Tolstoi's  "Ivan 
the  Terrible,"  March  1,  1904,  at  the  New  Amsterdam 
Theatre,  was  one  of  the  great  acliievements  of  Mans- 
field's career.  The  character  of  Ivan,  which  is  ana- 
lyzed elsewhere  in  this  book,  makes  a  prodigious  draft 
equally  upon  the  emotions  and  the  physical  resources 


274  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

of  an  actor, — being  that  of  a  cruel,  superstitious, 
fanatical,  sanguinary,  ruthless  despot,  by  turns  vacil- 
lant  and  resolute,  but  always  grim  and  dangerous, 
who,  under  circumstances  equally  dramatic  and 
afflicting,  is  overtaken  by  the  avenging  doom  of 
retributive  justice.  Mansfield's  performance  signally 
exemplified  the  art  of  impersonation  and  was  marked 
by  intense  feeling  and  great  tragical  power. 

316  Riverside  Drive, 
My  Dear  Winter:—  March  2,  1904-. 

Beatrice,  who  will  not  allow  me  to  read  the  newspapers,  has 
presented  me  with  your  more  than  generous  review  of  "Ivan," 
and  I  hasten  to  thank.  If  the  stage  were  approached  in  this 
spirit  by  all,  how  different  the  stage  would  be!  I  wish  I 
deserved  all  you  say,  but  how  fine  and  truly  illuminative  our 
poor  art  becomes,  when  the  hand  of  the  poet  has  recorded  the 
view  of  the  poet! 

It  was  a  trying  time.  Imagine  being  obliged  to  take  an 
elevator  after  each  scene  and  being  transported  to  the  fourth 
story!  One  felt  that  nothing  remained  but  to  order  a  jug  of 
ice-water  and   go  to   bed! 

In  these  days  of  Clyde  Fitches  it's  pretty  diflScult  to  get  peo- 
ple to  listen  to  the  historical  drama.  What  would  be  the 
effect  here  of  the  plays  concerning  Wallenstein,  by  Schiller, 
or  Don  Carlos,  or  Count  Egmont,  or  even  "Henri  Quatre  et  sa 
Cour,"  which  always  delights  Paris?  "Richard  II.".''  How- 
ever, something  is  accomplished,  something  done — and  thank 
God,  you  are  here! 

When  are  you  coming  up?  or  at  all  events,  join  me  at  the 
Theatre  one  evening  and  see  the  Elevator! 

What  news  of  Louis?     Love  from  Beatrice, 

Yours  always,     _ 

Richard. 


"AS    YOU    FIND    IT"  275 

It  was  about  this  time  that  he  wrote  his  clever 
monologue  called  "As  You  Find  It,"  in  wliich 
the  common  subservience  to  wealth  is  displayed  and 
the  sycophancy  and  insincerity  possible  to  human 
nature  are  satirized.  Mansfield  had  known  poverty 
and  the  slights  that  are  put  upon  it  by  arrogant 
wealth,  and  he  did  not  forget  his  experience.  "It 
is  necessary  to  be  rich,"  he  once  said  to  me;  "if 
you  are  poor,  they  make  you  wait  outside,  on  the 
mat.  If  you  are  rich,  they  throw  the  doors  wide 
open  and  welcome  you  in.  I  have  had  enough  of 
waiting  on  the  mat.  I  mean  to  have  money  and 
lots  of  it.  I  am  tired  of  being  patronized  by  snobs 
and  swells."  Social  toadyism  to  wealth,  such  as 
Bulwer  has  ridiculed  in  his  fine  comedy  of  "Money," 
had  become  obnoxious  to  him,  and  the  meanness  and 
absurdity  of  it  are  well  and  humorously  exempli- 
fied in  the  sketch  of  "As  You  Find  It,"  which, 
nevertheless,  he  undervalues,  as  "silly,"  in  this  letter. 


Hotel  Seville,  New  York, 

October  29,  1904. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Your  cliaracteristically  kind  letter  came  this  morning.  It  is 
good  of  you  to  pat  me  on  the  back  for  my  silly  monologue. 
But,  all  the  same,  I  will  send  the  pats  to  New  London,  for 
Beatrice;  they  may  do  her  good. 

Charles  Wyndham  arrives  this  morning.  I  am  distressed 
that  I  can't  show  him  some  little  attention.     He  was  good  to 


276  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

Beatrice  when  she  was  last  in  London.  If  you  should  see  him, 
please  tell  him,  will  you?  I  leave  on  Saturday — to-morrow — 
at  8  o'clock,  from  the  Grand  Central. 

Rehearsals  are  well  progressed  but  very  dreadful.  In  Bos- 
ton we  are  giving  Ivan,  Rodion,  "The  Merchant,"  Richard  the 
Third,  "A  Parisian  Romance,"  and  Dr.  Jehyll  and  Mr.  Hyde. 

I  wish  you  would  look  up  "Charles  II.,"  if  you  have  the 
leisure.  Also,  is  there  any  old  play  that  is  at  all  possible — 
that  we  could  touch  up.'' 

All  good  to  you  all ! 

Richard. 

In  the  course  of  this  year  an  impulse  of  kind- 
ness led  him  to  suggest  to  Miss  Ada  Rehan  the 
project  of  a  Testimonial  theatrical  performance, 
in  my  honor  and  for  my  benefit,  which,  as  soon  as 
I  heard  of  it,  I  declined  to  accept.  To  that  project, 
about  which  there  was  some  gossip,  he  makes  a 
passing  reference: 

Private  Car  403, 

Newark,  N.  J.,  Dec.   15,   1904. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

Yes,  I  hear  Mr.  Hackett  quite  succeeded  in  ruining  "Charles 
II."  However,  some  day  we  may  be  able  to  do  something  with 
the  old  boy. 

You  heard  from  Miss  Rehan,  I  see.  She  consulted  me,  and 
I  told  her  practically  what  you  said — that  as  long  as  you  are 
writing  it  would  be  a  difficult  imdertaking,  that  a  Testimonial 
would  have  to  be  unanimous,  or  not  at  all,  and  that  you  are 
not  inclined  to  take  it,  any  way.  But  your  retirement  would 
naturally  call  for  such  an  acknowledgment  of  your  services 
to  Literature  and  Art.  I  hope  I  may  be  there,  to  do  my  little 
all — and  yet  I  hope  it  may  be  a  long  way  off! 


MOLlfiRE  277 

It  is  most  dreadfully  cold  and  gloomy  here.  A  barn  of 
a  theatre — which  gaps  like  a  black  cavern  and  puffs  blasts  of 
icy  wind  upon  the  miserable,  shivering  being  in  tights  and  a 
short  cloak, — howling  Shakespeare  into  an  expanse  of  unre- 
sponsive emptiness!  "A  horse!  a  horse! — my  kingdom  for  a 
horse!"  An  automobile  would  be  more  to  the  point!  Any- 
thing on  which  to  get  away.  There  are  numerous  kindly  dis- 
posed creatures  here,  who  invite  me  to  all  sorts  of  impossible 
entertainments.  One  old  Lady  hopes  I  will  come  to  dinner, 
quite  informally  on  Saturday,  after  the  matinee!    .    .    . 

As  always  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

His  next  step  was  to  Moliere.  We  had  often 
talked  of  the  great  Frenchman, — his  deep  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature,  his  deft,  delicate  touch,  in 
the  portrayal  of  character  and  manners,  the  vicissi- 
tude of  his  fortune,  and  his  sad  experience, — and 
it  was  indeed  a  pleasure  to  hear  that  a  trial  would 
at  last  be  made,  in  English,  by  an  actor  singularly 
competent  to  make  it,  of  the  classic  comedy  of 
France. 

Chicago,  February  5,  1905. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  am  thinking  of  giving  one  of  Moli^re's  plays,  in  March — • 
just  for  the  sake  of  a  novelty  and  because  it  will  be  pleasant 
for  the  Ibsen  and  Shaw  cult! 

Tell  me  which  you  think  would  be  possible.  Tartuffe  I  do 
not  care  to  do.     Can  you  advise  me? 

I  had  a  letter  last  night  from  Miss  Rchan,  to  say  good-by — 
poor  Lady,  she  seems  always  sad,  and  one  can  do  nothing  to 
cheer  lier  up. 


278  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

With  every  good  wish  that  your  affairs  will  soon  have  a  little 
sunshine  in  them,  believe  me, 

Always  yours,  Richard  Mansfifld. 

The  Virginia  Hotel,  Chicago,  all  this  week — then  I  go  South 
and  will  be  at  the  Tulane  Theatre,  New  Orleans,  Feb.  20,  but 
please  answer  this  at  once! 

There  could  be  no  hesitancy  as  to  the  correct 
choice.  He  had  decided  wisely,  in  deciding  against 
*'Tartuffe," — a  play  which,  notwithstanding  its 
ingenuity  of  construction,  is  obnoxious  to  good  taste, 
because  of  its  gross  fidehty  to  *'the  seamy  side"  of 
life.  The  play  for  Mansfield,  obviously,  was  "The 
Misanthrope,"  and  I  responded  to  his  request  by 
naming  that  piece,  urging  him  to  produce  it,  and 
sending  to  him  a  copy  of  it,  which  I  happened  to 
possess,  in  sheets,  of  the  expert  translation  made  by 
the  late  Miss  Katherine  Prescott  Wormeley.  The 
time,  to  me,  was  one  of  bereavement  and  affliction, 
my  son  Louis  (previously  mentioned  in  some  of 
Mansfield's  letters)  having  died,  after  a  long  and 
afflicting  illness,  in  California,  and  it  was  not  easy 
to  think  of  plays:  but  labor  is  the  only  refuge  from 
sorrow.  Mansfield  signified  his  sympathy  with  the 
choice  of  "The  Misanthrope"  and  at  once  applied 
himself  to  the  study  of  Alceste, — a  character  which 
he  was  destined  to  make  distinctively  his  own,  upon 
the  American  stage,  and  with  which  the  remem- 
brance of  him  will  long  remain  entwined. 


SHYLOCK   EXALTED  279 

Private  Car  403,  New  Orleans, 

February  23,  1905. 
My  Poor  Winter : — 

I  am  deeply  grieved  to  hear  the  sad  news — and  of  course,  of 
course  you  know  you  have  all  my  heartfelt  sympathy  and  that 
of  Beatrice, 

I  understand  what  you  say  about  your  work,  but  I  find,  as  I 
go  on,  that  work  is  about  the  only  thing — the  only  good  thing, 
that  is  left  to  us.     It  is  the  antidote.    .    .    . 


I  enclose  a  notice  of  "The  Merchant"  from  "The  Picayune." 
It  is  only  recently  (the  notice  is,  otherwise,  of  no  importance) 
that  people  have  recognized  that  Shyloch  would  not  be  likely  to 
subscribe  a  deed  that  would  give  half  his  fortune  to  the  man 
who  lately  stole  his  daughter — or  to  Antonio;  or  that  he  would 
consent  to  become  a  Christian.  There  is  only  one  thing  for 
Shyloch,  and  that  is  death.  Do  you  remember  whether  any 
other  actor  had  that  idea?  or  indicated  clearly  that  intention.? 

Our  houses  are  sold  out  for  the  remainder  of  the  engagement! 

I  am  hard  at  work  on  "The  Misanthrope."  Heaven  only 
knows  if  I  can  ever  learn  all  the  words — but  the  work  appeals 
to  me,  and  if  the  people  can  stand  Shaw,  they  ought  to  endure 
Moliere  ? 

With  much  love  and  sympathy. 

Always  yours, 

Richard  Mansfield. 

A  disposition  to  theorize  about  Shyloch,  pro- 
pitious to  the  idea  that  he  is  an  object  of  sj^m- 
pathy,  always  lingered  in  Mansfield's  mind.  His 
genial  theory  did  not  much  affect  the  perceptible 
spirit  of  his  j^erformance,  when  he  acted  the  part, — 
its  only  effect,  indeed,  being  to  confuse  and  per- 
plex  exactitude   of   correct   ideal;   but   he   liked   to 


280  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

dwell  upon  it,  and,  in  particular,  he  fancied  that 
he  had  hit  upon  a  remarkably  illuminative  expedi- 
ent when  he  devised  "business"  suggestive  of  suicide, 
at  the  end  of  the  Trial  Scene.  The  text  of  the 
play,  meanwhile,  is  distinctly  opposed  to  that  fan- 
tastic view  of  Shylockj  and,  while  other  actors, 
from  Edmund  Kean  to  Henry  Irving,  have  accentu- 
ated good  traits  in  the  character,  and  tried  to  suf- 
fuse it  with  some  little  glow  of  humanity,  no  other 
acter  ever  discovered,  in  that  rapacious,  sanguinary 
usurer,  any  such  Brutus-Kke  grandeur  of  soul  as 
would  constrain  him  to  seek,  in  self-inflicted  death, 
a  refuge  from  the  consequences  of  defeat  in  his 
plan  of  revenge  and  murder.  If  Shylock  could 
be  considered  capable  of  recourse  to  that  desperate 
alternative,  when  baffled,  he  could  equally  be  con- 
sidered capable  of  stabbing  Antonio  to  the  heart, 
and  then  stabbing  liimself,  in  the  Court  of  Venice, 
and  so,  at  least,  accomplishing  his  vengeance.  This 
subject,  as  a  matter  of  Shakespearean  commentary 
and  of  acting,  is  duly  considered  in  another  chapter 
of  tliis  memoir.  It  may  not,  however,  be  amiss  to 
indicate  a  plain  reason  for  the  scrupulous  anxi- 
ety, as  to  the  radically  villainous  character  of  Shy- 
lock  that  has  been  evinced  by  Mansfleld,  and  by 
other  performers  of  the  part  who  have  been  con- 
spicuous in  recent  years.     The  Hebrew  population, 


TO    PLEASE    JEWS  281 

alike  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States,  is 
numerous  and  potential,  possessing  vast  wealth 
and  being  ardently  animated  by  a  racial,  clannish 
spirit.  If  that  population  should,  within  the  next 
half  century,  increase  in  numbers  and  power  in 
the  same  ratio  in  which  it  has  increased  within  the 
last  twenty-five  years,  it  may  chance  to  become 
the  predominant  race,  in  both  countries.  The  ques- 
tion whether  that  result  of  time  is  either  likely  or 
desirable  is  not  material  here.  The  point  to  be 
noted  is  that  actors  of  Shyloch  have  shown  them- 
selves desirous  to  present  the  part  in  such  a  way 
as  to  win  the  favor  and  thus  the  support  of  the 
Hebrew  population.  One  of  Mansfield's  letters 
distinctly  intimates  that  such  was  liis  purpose,  while 
another  of  his  letters  imputes  a  similar  purpose  to 
Henry  Irving.  A  scheme  of  art  which  perverts  a 
character  from  the  truth,  in  order  to  please  any- 
body, is  manifestly  wrong.  Shylock  is  a  superb 
part  and,  when  played  by  a  competent  actor,  is 
tremendously  effective,  whatever  gloss  be  put  upon 
it;  but  Shylock,  as  dra^vn  by  Shakespeare,  is  a 
treacherous,  wily,  bloody-minded  villain,  and  no  more 
a  representative  J^v  than  Macheth  is  a  representa- 
tive Scot,  or  lago  a  representative  Italian,  or  Rich- 
ard a  representative  Englisliman.  He  is,  indeed, 
drawn  as  a  Jew;  but,  though  a  Jew,  he  is  also  a 


282  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

prodigy;  he  typifies  some  of  the  worst  passions  in 
human  nature,  and  those  passions  are  quite  as 
natural  to  Jews  as  to  members  of  other  races, — a 
fact  which  is  mentioned,  with  considerable  emphasis, 
and  by  an  unimpeachable  authority,  in  the  old 
Hebrew  Testament. 

In  the  later  revivals  that  Mansfield  effected, 
not  only  of  "The  Merchant  of  Venice"  but  of 
"Richard  III.,"  he  shifted  the  scenes  and  cut  the 
text  in  such  a  way  as  to  mangle  those  plays  almost 
beyond  recognition,  his  object  being  to  shorten  the 
time  occupied  in  the  performance,  and  to  concentrate 
the  burden  of  representation  upon  himself.  Those 
portions  that  he  used  of  the  first  two  acts  of  the 
Comedy  were  conmiingled  in  one  act,  productive  of 
a  wearisome  effect  of  prolixity,  while  the  Tragedy 
was  so  much  altered  that,  until  the  last  act,  it  was 
an  episodical  jumble.  His  impersonation  of  Rich- 
ard,  though,  was  seen  to  have  grown  in  power  and, 
at  the  end,  was  finer  than  ever, — being  the  authentic 
achievement  of  a  tragedian.  In  the  Dream  Scene 
he  rose  to  a  splendid  chmax  of  mingled  emotions 
and  produced  a  starthng  effect.  My  estimate  of  his 
assumption  of  Shyloch,  unhappily,  remained  irk- 
some to  him,  although  he  became  sufficiently  pliilo- 
sopliic  to  mention  it  without  asperity.  "  I  have  read 
your  brilliant  essays,"  he  wrote,  "and  I  see  that  you 


A    GREAT    NIGHT  283 

still  object  to  my  characterization  of  Shylock.  I 
am  sorry:  if  you  had  to  play  him  you  would,  prob- 
ably, soon  change  your  views" 

On  one  of  his  Shylock  nights,  when  I  chanced  to 
be  in  front,  I  sent  a  written  message  to  him,  telling 
him  that  I  expected  and  hoped  (vain  hope!)  that  I 
should  not  again  see  "The  Merchant  of  Venice," 
and  asking  him  to  act  for  me;  to  give  me  a  fine 
memory  of  a  performance  of  Shylock,  and  to  place 
exceptional  emphasis  on  the  Street  Scene — in  which, 
generally,  actors  fall  short  of  the  effect  that  is  pos- 
sible; and  he  acted  that  scene  in  a  thoroughly 
magnificent  manner,  rising,  indeed,  to  the  full 
height  of  its  terrific  passion  and  its  burning  elo- 
quence. Later  that  evening  (March  23,  1905)  and 
before  the  performance  had  ended  I  received  this 
word  from  Shylock: 


Dear  Winter: — 

Thank  you  for  the  inspiration.  But — it  is  not  going  to  be 
your  last  view  of  "The  Merchant,"  by  very  many,  and  I  hope 
they  may  all  be  better  than  mine! 

You  see  what  you  did — the  audience  has  never  seen  this 
play  before,  and  thought  I  had  finished  my  invective,  not 
knowing  that  I  had  still  more  noise  in  me!  I'm  playing  only 
for  you — my  subtlest;  nobody  else  will  understand  it  but  you. 
Do  go  to  the  Holland   House  to-night,''       It  is   bitterly   cold! 

Your  R.  M. 


284  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

On  March  20,  1905,  Mansfield  began  an  engage- 
ment at  the  New  Amsterdam  Theatre,  New  York, 
acting  Brummell.  Selections  from  his  repertory  fol- 
lowed, and  on  April  10  he  brought  out  "The  ]Mis- 
anthrope"  and,  for  the  first  time,  acted  Alceste.  His 
impersonation,  essentially  a  gem  of  dramatic  art, 
was  greatly  admired,  especially  by  those  observers 
who  perceive  and  enjoy  acuteness  of  intellect,  refine- 
ment of  style,  and  precision  of  expressive  art;  but 
it  did  not  win  much  popular  favor.  Alceste,  a  con- 
simmiate  image  of  polished,  severe,  aristocratic 
manners,  in  a  picturesque,  ornate  environment,  is 
representative  of  uncompromising  honesty,  and  there- 
fore he  is  in  continual  antagonism  with  the  dupKci- 
ties,  numberless  and  inveterate,  that  accompany 
social  intercourse.  Mansfield, — original  in  mind, 
sensitive  in  temperament,  earnest  in  feeling,  satirical 
in  mood,  and  somewhat  embittered  by  harsh  experi- 
ence,— was  deeply  sympathetic  with  that  character, 
and  he  made  it  actual  in  representation.  The 
comedy  of  "The  Misanthrope"  requires,  for  an 
adequate  performance  of  it,  a  complete  company  of 
actors  of  the  highest  order:  that  requirement  was 
not  fulfilled.  The  acting  of  JNIansfield,  in  all  the 
plays  that  he  presented  during  tliis  season,  was 
marked  by  extraordinary  vigor  and  superlative  fin- 
ish.    The  engagement  in  New  York  was  ended  on 


JEFFERSON  285 

April   22,   at   the   Harlem   Opera   House,    and   he 
then  departed  to  other  cities. 

On  Easter,  1905,  at  Palm  Beach,  Fla.,  died 
that  good  man  and  great  actor,  Joseph  Jefferson, 
passing  away,  aged  76, — after  a  continuous  pro- 
fessional career  of  72  years,  the  longest  in  the  annals 
of  the  American  stage, — in  the  fulness  of  honor, 
everywhere  respected  and  loved.  Mansfield's 
acquaintance  with  Jefferson  was  slight,  but  he 
admired  the  veteran  and,  if  circumstances  had 
permitted,  would  have  been  glad  to  follow  his 
example.  With  actors  in  general  he  did  not  culti- 
vate personal  association,  but  he  was  always  mind- 
ful of  the  honor  and  dignity  of  the  Theatre  and 
always  practically  sympathetic  with  every  rational 
movement  for  the  good  of  his  profession:  in  1902, 
for  example,  he  performed  in  aid  of  "The  Actors' 
Home,"  and  gained  for  that  excellent  establish- 
ment about  $9,000.  He  also  earnestly  advocated  the 
plan  of  a  Subsidized  Theatre,  believing  that  it 
would  benefit  society,  and  tend  toward  the  redemp- 
tion and  protection  of  Iiis  calling  from  mercenary, 
unscrupulous,  and  degrading  control.  His  temper 
was  not  naturally  unsocial,  but  his  experience  had 
made  liim  somewhat  austere,  and  his  laborious 
professional  occupations  restricted  him  very  much 
to  himself.     His   judgment   of   acting   was   severe 


286  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

and  not  always  correct,  but  fine  talent  well  employed 
failed  not  to  elicit  his  admiration.  It  is  significant 
of  his  taste  that  he  was  enthusiastic  in  praise  of  Ada 
Rehan  and  of  that  accomplished  comedian  J.  E. 
Dodson.  The  acting  of  Jefferson  greatly  delighted 
him,  and  he  deeply  valued  the  good-will  of  that 
illustrious  person.  Once,  when  a  pernicious  news- 
paper "interview"  had  misrepresented  Jefferson,  as 
having  disparaged  him,  he  was  much  hurt  and 
annoyed.  "I  do  not  know,"  he  said, — to  a  reporter 
who  sought  him  and  displayed  the  "interview," — 
"why  Mr.  Jefferson  should  concern  himself  with 
my  acting,  and  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  it  troubles 
him.  I  believe  it  is  fifteen  years  since  he  attended 
one  of  my  performances."  That  remark  was  pub- 
lished and  presently  it  was  shown  to  Jefferson,  who 
immediately  wrote  to  ^lansfield,  with  that  honesty 
and  directness  for  which  he  was  noted,  a  blunt  dis- 
claimer of  the  calumny: 


Lexington,  Ky., 

April  6,  1900. 
My  Dear  Mr.  Mansfield: — 

I  was  much  surprised  to  have  the  enclosed  article  handed 
to  me,  by  my  son.  There  was,  certainly,  a  conversation  regard- 
ing Acting  in  general,  at  Atlanta,  and,  naturally,  your  name 
came  up,  amongst  others.  It  is  quite  possible  that  some  alert 
reporter  heard  the  remark  made,  which  he,  either  by  mistake 
or   mischief,   has    attributed    to   me.       On    the   contrary,   when 


A    GERMAN    CLASSIC  287 

some  such  remark  was  made,  I  replied  that  I  considered  you 
a  fine  actor,  and  that  your  acting  was  always  interesting  to 
me.  This  is  the  full  extent  of  my  offence.  In  my  career 
upon  the  stage  I  have  made  it  a  rule  not  to  condemn  my  brother 
actors  in  public. 

With  cordial  regards  to  Mrs.  Mansfield  and  yourself,  I  am, 

Sincerely  yours, 

J.  Jefferson. 

The  season  of  1904!-'05  ended  at  Cleveland,  on 
June  8,  and  the  tired  actor  went  to  his  home  at  New 
London,  intending  to  rest;  but  the  necessity  of  fresh 
enterprise  in  his  profession  continually  stimulated 
him  to  fresh  endeavor,  and  his  thoughts  were  ever 
busy  with  the  future,  permitting  no  repose.  He 
had  presented  one  of  the  best  comedies  in  the  old 
literature  of  France.  He  now  resolved  upon  reani- 
mating one  of  the  most  admired  tragedies  existent 
in  the  old  literature  of  Germany.  "I  have  played 
all  the  parts,"  he  said — meaning  that  he  had  shown 
an  image  of  each  representative  variety  of  char- 
acter, a  statement  not  exactly  accurate, — "I  have 
run  the  gamut.  There  is  nothing  in  sight  but  'Don 
Carlos.*  "  He  was  not  confident  of  the  success  of 
the  project,  but  he  knew  the  worth  of  the  play, 
long  esteemed  a  German  classic;  he  hoped  that 
the  German  populace  would  rally  to  his  support, 
in  the  venture;  and,  after  careful  study  of  the 
original  and  of  approved  translations,  he  made  an 


288  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

acting  version  and  prepared  for  the  presentment 
of  it.  Scliiller's  play,  in  its  original  form  (1787), 
is  inimical  to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and 
Mansfield,  strongly  desirous  not  to  promote  or  par- 
ticipate in  a  theological  wrangle,  edited  the  text 
in  such  a  way  as  to  exclude  offence  to  sectarians, 
and  also  he  extirpated  political  and  oratorical  flour- 
ishes,— utilizing  only  the  dramatic  elements  of  the 
tragedy.  He  was,  nevertheless,  apprehensive  of  the 
unjust  and  possibly  injurious  censure  of  a  bigoted 
pulpit, — which,  indeed,  he  did  not  escape, — and  his 
mind  was  likewise  disquieted  by  newspaper  dis- 
paragement. His  health  was  poor  and  his  letters 
were  sadly  indicative  of  despondency  and  discontent. 


The  Grange,  New  London, 

August  16,  1905. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  was  very  glad  to  hear  from  you,  and  I  am  very  much 
flattered  and  delighted  with  the  very  splendid  things  you  were 
good  enough  to  say  about  me,  in  Chicago  and  San  Francisco. 

My  late  letters  and  their  tone  of  despondency  were  entirely 
due  to  certain  articles  in  certain  papers,  notably  in  "The  Sun." 
It  is  futile  to  do  good  work — to  have  done  good  work,  in  this 
country.  The  conditions  are  such  that  every  effort  is  belittled 
and  every  ambition  derided. 

You  speak  of  my  influence:  I  have  none.  I  can  do  nothing 
whatever,  and  have  nothing  to  say.  The  actors  themselves 
are  all  only  too  glad  to  get  a  good  salary  and  study  one  part 
a  season,  and  this  they  can  do,  with  Mr.  Frohman  and  others. 


RICHARD  MANSFIELD  IN  1905 


AN   ANGRY   PULPIT  289 

I    stand   quite    alone,    for    both    the    Frohmans    and   the    other 
managers  and  all  the  actors  are  against  me. 

Mr.  John  Drew  was  recently  elected  President  of  the  Players 
Club,  to  succeed,  by  right  of  merit,  to  the  position  occupied 
by  Mr.  Booth  and  Mr.  Jefferson.  I  have  never  been  deferred 
to,  upon  any  occasion  whatsoever,  and  my  advice  or  opinion 
is  not  wanted.  No  college  has  ever  bestowed  any  degree  upon 
me,  unless  it  be  that  of  A.  S.  S.  There  is  no  artistic  society 
or  atmosphere,  and  I  evolve  everything  out  of  myself  and  am 
utterly  alone. 

That  I  fail  to  present  merely  "catch  pennies"  is  simply  in 
order  to  preserve  my  self-respect.      If  I  were  to  join  hands 

with    Mr.    or    Mrs.    ,    they    would    betray    me    the 

next  day,  and  I  should  be  left  worse  off  than  now,  when  I 
am  merely  alone  and  independent.    .    .    . 

I  see  Irving  is  to  play  under  Charles  Frohman's  manage- 
ment in  Paris !  This  is  a  fine  thing  for  Irving.  The  weather 
is  damnable:  we  have  had  no  summer. 

Yours  always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


In  the  early  autumn  of  this  year  he  was  com- 
pelled to  undergo  two  successive  surgical  operations 
and  he  was  much  weakened  by  pain,  but  he  rallied, 
and  on  October  27,  1905,  he  began  the  theatrical 
season  with  his  usual  zeal,  appearing  at  the  Valen- 
tine Opera  House,  Toledo,  Ohio,  where,  for  the 
first  time,  he  acted  Don  Carlos.  The  intolerance  of 
the  pulpit,  as  he  had  expected,  immediately  became 
vocal.  A  clergyman  of  Toledo,  Rev.  J.  H.  Mueh- 
lenbeck,  led  the  attack,  by  a  letter  to  one  of  the 
newspapers   of   that   city,    declaring   himself   to   be 


290  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

the  spokesman  of  fifty  Roman  Catholic  societies, 
of  Lucas  County,  Oliio,  and  setting  forth  their 
objections  to  the  presentment  of  Scliiller's  play. 
Those  objections  were:  that  "Don  Carlos"  is  not 
a  masterpiece;  that  it  grossly  misrepresents  the  facts 
of  history;  that  its  twofold  plot  is  a  disturbing 
element;  that  "the  Princess  Amelia,  after  it  had 
been  read  to  her  once,  never  again  invited  Schiller 
to  her  presence"  (awful  penalty!) ;  that  "the  illicit 
intimacy  between  Don  Carlos  and  his  stepmother, 
which,  like  a  gangrene,  sweeps  through  the  whole 
drama,  is  historically  untrue  and  must  fill  the 
minds  of  the  spectators  with  moral  poison";  and, 
finally,  because  "religious  practices  and  doctrines  are 
dwelt  upon  in  such  a  manner  as  to  shock  Catholics, 
and  to  promote,  in  non-Catholics,  prejudice  and 
aversion."  The  fact  that  Mansfield  had  so  adapted 
the  play  as  to  eliminate  all  suggestion  of  "illicit 
intimacy"  and  all  assailment  of  any  form  of  religion 
made  that  fulmination  nugatory,  not  to  say  ridicu- 
lous: yet  it  preyed  upon  the  actor's  mind  and 
depressed  his  spirit,  helping  to  deepen  his  ever- 
growing conviction  that  he  could  expect  nothing 
but  enmity.  Most  persons  who  think  about  the  mat- 
ter at  all  are  aware  that,  privately,  as  a  custom  of 
social  gossip,  more  evil  than  good  is  spoken  about 
them,   but,   as  a   rule,   it   is   not   till   evil-speaking 


ABOUT    ILL    WORDS  291 

becomes  evil-printing  that  many  persons  particularly 
regard  it. 

Strange  that  the  mind,  that  very   fiery  particle. 
Should  let  itself  be  snuffed  out  by  an  article! 

So  wrote  the  poet  Byron,  glancing  at  the  fiction 
that  a  hostile  review,  in  "The  London  Quarterly" 
was,  indirectly,  the  cause  of  the  death  of  the  poet 
Keats.  Stranger  still  that  an  actor,  or  indeed 
any  artist,  should  allow  himself  to  be  distressed 
by  printed  pribbles  and  prabbles,  such  stuff,  intrin- 
sically, being  of  no  more  importance  than  the 
crossing  of  flies  in  the  air.  But  so  it  is.  "Would 
not  a  man  think"  (so  wrote  the  felicitous  Dr. 
South)  "that  ill  deeds  and  shrewd  turns  should 
reach  further  and  strike  deeper  than  ill  words?  And 
yet  many  instances  might  be  given  in  which  men 
have  much  more  easily  pardoned  ill  things  done 
than  ill  things  said  against  them.  Such  a  peculiar 
rancor  and  venom  do  they  leave  behind  them  in 
men's  minds,  and  so  much  more  poisonously  and 
venomously  does  the  serpent  bite  with  his  tongue 
than  with  his  teeth." 

If  every  play  that  is  defective  as  to  literary  attri- 
butes were  to  be  debarred  from  the  stage,  few  even 
of  the  plays  written  by  the  best  of  dramatists 
would  be  performed.    An  experienced  actor  is,  nee- 


292  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

essarily,  better  qualified  than  a  clergyman  to  deter- 
mine whether  a  play  is  a  dramatic  masterpiece,  and 
adapted,  or  adaptable,  for  representation.  The  two- 
fold plot  of  "Don  Carlos"  does  not,  and  did  not, 
prevent  it  from  being  a  practicable,  measurably 
effective  drama.  The  facts  of  history  have  been 
found  to  be  somewhat  elusive,  and  there  is  no  invin- 
cible ordainment  making  it  compulsory  upon  the 
public  to  take  a  specific  sectarian  view  of  them. 
The  Roman  Catholic  Church,  like  the  Protestant 
Church,  has  dark  and  terrible  records,  distressful 
to  every  Christian  reader  and  to  all  readers :  dreadful 
deeds  have  been  done,  as  all  the  world  knows,  in  the 
name  of  religion:  but  there  was  not  the  slightest 
danger  of  arousing  "prejudice  and  aversion"  against 
any  Church,  by  indicating  the  terrors  of  the  old 
Spanish  Inquisition.  That  subject  has  been  used  on 
the  stage  for  many  j^ears,  and  the  use  of  it,  within 
proper  theatrical  limitations,  has  served  only  to 
heighten  the  pubHc  sense  of  the  inestimable  value 
of  liberty  of  conscience.  The  Spanish  Inquisition 
was  a  damnable  iniquity  and,  at  this  late  day,  it 
would  be  strange  to  find  any  disinclination  to  call 
it  by  its  right  name.  At  the  time  when  Schiller 
wrote  "Don  Carlos,"  the  human  race  was  struggling 
and  groaning  under  the  weight  of  many  shackles 
which  since  have  been  broken.    Mansfield  did  a  good 


IN    CHICAGO  293 

deed  when  he  revived  Scliiller's  tragedy,  for  he  gave 
a  magnificent  performance,  and,  not  improbably,  he 
reminded  his  public  that  freedom  is  a  blessing  to 
be  defended  as  well  as  enjoyed. 

On  October  30  he  appeared  at  the  Grand  Opera 
House,  Chicago,  presenting  "Don  Carlos."  It  hap- 
pened to  me,  making  the  journey  eastward  from 
Southern  Cahfornia,  through  those  wonderful  and 
delightful  scenes  of  natural  pageantry  that  environ 
the  Santa  Fe  Route  across  the  continent,  to  reach 
that  city  a  little  while  after  "Don  Carlos"  had  been 
produced,  and  to  have  the  privilege  not  only  of 
seeing  a  performance  of  it  but  of  observing  the 
favor  with  wliich  Mansfield  was  hailed  by  the 
Chicago  audience  and  the  cheering  critical  esteem 
with  which  his  acting  was  recorded  by  the  Chicago 
press.  He  gained  friends  in  the  great  Western 
capital,  and,  like  Othello  in  Cyprus,  was  "well 
desired"  there.  With  Schiller's  tragedy  as  the  novel 
feature  of  his  repertory  he  traversed  a  considerable 
part  of  the  country,  and  fulfilled  the  engagements 
of  an  uncommonly  laborious  season.  He  did  not 
reach  New  York  with  "Don  Carlos,"  till  ^March 
19,  1906,  when  he  presented  it  at  the  New  Amster- 
dam Theatre,  supplementing  its  production  with 
revivals  of  his  old  plays,  and  ended  his  engagement 
there  on  April  14.     He  then  made  a  tour  of  a  few 


294  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

cities,  including  a  "return  engagement"  in  Chicago, 
and  closed  his  season  on  May  25. 

One  interesting  incident  of  his  professional  indus- 
try and  experience,  in  the  season  of  1905-'06,  was 
his  delivery,  at  the  Chicago  University,  of  a  dis- 
course about  the  Theatre.  He  gave  the  manuscript 
;  of  it  to  his  friend  Herman  H.  Kohlsaat,  who  has 
I  kindly  submitted  it  to  my  inspection.  A  few 
extracts  from  that  discourse  are  given  here,  because 
illustrative  of  his  view  of  the  duty  of  the  Stage  to 
Society  and  of  the  duty  of  Society  to  the  Stage. 

\.  .  .  Whilst  the  Press,  which  is  the  voice  of  the  public, 
is  finding  fault  with  the  condition  of  the  stage,  it  is,  perhaps, 
forgotten  that  the  public  itself  is  largely  responsible  for  this 
condition.  When  you  need  a  fine  President  you  elect  one,  and 
if  you  elect  a  bad  one  it  would  be  your  fault  or  the  fault  of 
a  faulty  machine.  If  you  were  by  any  chance  to  submit  to 
[  graft  in  every  direction,  bad  municipal  government,  insufficient 
'f.  regulations,  bad  roads,  congested  traffics,  highway  robbery  and 
\  wholesale  vice,  who  would  be  to  blame,  if  you  are  content  to 
sit  with  your  hands  in  your  laps  and  yell  murder?  There 
has,  ever  since  I  have  had  the  honor  and  privilege  of  appearing 
before  American  audiences,  been  this  same  outcry  against  the 
American  stage,  and  there  has  always  been  sufficient  interest 
at  work  to  make  this  outcry,  but  never  sufficient  interest  to  do 
anything  about  it,  and  here  is  a  case  of  Talk  versus  Acting. 
Yet,  here  are  some  ninety  millions  of  people,  possessed  of  the 
greatest  wealth  of  any  nation  in  the  world.  It  is  just  as  easy 
to  have  a  National  Theatre  in  this  country  as  it  is  in  France 
or  Germany.  It  is  now  some  seven  years  since  I  attended  a 
very  delightful  function  in  the  city  of  Chicago,  and  being  called 


A    NATIONAL    THEATRE  295 

upon  to  make  some  remarks,  and  being  totally  unprepared,  it 
occurred  to  me  to  suggest  the  establishment  of  a  National 
Theatre.  This  suggestion  was  widely  discussed,  at  that  time, 
by  the  press  and  immediately  after  forgotten.  Since  then 
various  eminent  persons  have  stolen  my  thunder;  but  neither 
my  thunder  nor  their  echo  of  it  has  cleared  the  air,  and  to-day 
the  stage  of  this  country — as,  indeed,  of  England — is  in  the 
same  unsatisfactory  condition.     And  so  we  talk,  and  don't  act. 

We  need  a  recognized  Stage  and  a  recognized  School.  America 
has  become  too  great  and  its  influence  abroad  too  large  for 
us  to  afford  to  have  recourse  to  that  ancient  and  easy  method 
of  criticism  which  decries  the  American  and  extols  the  foreign. 
That  is  one  of  the  last  remnants  of  colonialism  and  provincialism, 
which  must  depart  forever.   .    .    . 

It  is  very  evident  that  any  man,  be  he  an  actor  or  no  actor, 
can,  with  money  and  with  good  taste,  make  what  is  technically 
termed  a  production.  There  is,  as  an  absolute  matter  of  fact, 
no  particular  credit  to  be  attached  to  the  making  of  a  pro- 
duction. The  real  work  of  the  stage — of  the  actor — does  not 
lie  there.  It  is  easy  for  us  to  busy  ourselves,  to  pass  pleasantly 
our  time  designing  lovely  scenes,  charming  costumes  and  all 
the  paraphernalia  and  pomp  of  mimic  grandeur,  whether  of 
landscape  or  of  architecture,  the  panoply  of  war,  or  the  luxury 
of  royal  courts.  That  is  fun;  pleasure  and  amusement.  That 
again  comes  under  the  head  of  Talking  versus  Acting.  No, 
the  real  work  of  the  stage  lies  in  the  creation  of  a  character. 
A  great  character  will  live  forever,  when  paint  and  canvas 
and  silks  and  satins  and  gold  foil  and  tinsel  shall  have  gone 
the  way  of  all  rags.    .    .    . 

There  is  much  at  the  present  time  which  militates  against 
the  education  of  the  actor.  It  has  become  largely  the  custom 
of  theatrical  companies  to  rely  upon  one  play  each  season,  or 
for  as  long  a  period  as  any  play  will  hold  the  public  favor. 
This  means  a  few  weeks  of  rehearsal  and  idleness  the  rest 
of  the  time.  A  society  play,  for  instance,  is  purchased  in 
London,   a   cast   is    engaged   in    New    York    in   which   each    in- 


296  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

dividual  player  peculiarly  suits  the  character  he  or  she  has 
to  interpret.  Repetitions  take  place  under  the  eye  of  an 
astute  manager  and  the  play  is  launched,  and  there  is  nothing 
to  be  done  by  the  actors.  The  business  manager  and  especially 
the  press  agent  do  the  rest.  Most  of  these  plays  that  come  to 
us  from  London  are  disquisitions  on  social  topics,  social  problems, 
expositions  of  the  author's  peculiar  views  on  matrimony  or 
pugilism  or  the  relations  of  the  sexes,  or  a  searchlight  into 
a  dark  and  reeking  closet  which  nobody  wants  to  examine. 
In  these  plays,  and  plays  of  this  class,  it  is  only  necessary 
for  the  interpreter  to  speak  the  words,  but  there  is  no  call 
for  great  acting  and  the  actor  is  simply  floated  for  a  while 
upon  the  tide  of  the  author's  temporary  notoriety.  The  actor 
should  sternly  put  away  the  temptation  which  may  come  to 
him  under  the  guise  of  financial  success  to  produce  plays  which 
pander  to  debased  tastes,  for  though,  for  a  brief  spell,  he 
may  hold  the  attention  of  the  public,  he  will  win  neither  respect 
nor  lasting  reward  and  he  will  openly  degrade  an  art  which 
should   be   devoted   only   to   the  beautiful.   .    .    . 

This  world  was  beautiful  until  man  made  it  ugly,  and  it 
still  remains  beautiful  to  those  who  will  seek  its  beauties.  We 
may  at  once  confess  that  there  are  sewers  and  some  bad  sewers. 
That  is  the  truth.  But  because  it  is  the  truth  there  is  no 
need  to  exhibit  them  upon  the  stage.  There  are  other  means 
of  eradicating  such  evils.  The  stage  is  neither  a  police  court 
nor  a  hospital.  Both  are,  unfortunately,  necessary  to  man- 
kind, but  they  are  not  necessary  upon  the  stage.  The  loftiest 
aim  of  the  pulpit  and  the  stage  is  to  teach  us  to  be  better  and 
consequently  happier,  but  neither  a  church  congregation  nor 
a  theatre  audience  is  to  be  improved  or  should  be  asked  to 
endure    the    distressing    details    of    brutal,    vulgar,    disgusting 


In  reply  to  a  letter  of  congratulation,  as  to  his 
Lecture  on  the  Theatre,  he  wrote: 


A   BLITHE    SPIRIT  297 

St.   James   Hotel,  Philadelphia, 

January  23,   I906. 
My  Dear  William  Winter: — 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  disburdening  yourself  of  some 
of  the  loads  you  have  been  carrying.  We  all  harness  our- 
selves to  too  many  rickshaws.  I've  a  whole  string  of 
*em. 

I  don't  think  my  lectures  are  likely  to  instruct  anyone,  but 
my  agent,  Mr.  Wilstach,  seemed  to  think  them  desirable,  and 
I  made  the  effort.  Perhaps  they  are  amusing.  The  boys 
seemed  to  be  entertained. 

If  I  can  recover  part  of  Cyrano,  in  time,  I  shall 
add  it  to  my  repertory  in  New  York,  and  thus  bring  ten 
plays. 

A  man  called  on  me  yesterday,  at  the  Theatre,  before  the 
play,  and  said  he  had  been  dispatched,  by  some  Syndicate, 
to  offer  me  $100,000  a  season,  for  three  seasons,  which  I 
promptly  declined,  and,  before  he  left,  he  had  worked  himself 
up   to   $200,000   a   season! 

But  I  think  I  shall  make  a  farewell  tour  and  retire,  and 
go  into  the  steamship  business,  as  I  could  then,  probably,  ride 
about  the  world  for  nothing.  I  have  also  noticed  that  the 
Irish  whiskey,  on  the  smaller  steamers,  is  excellent  and  very 
cheap ! 

I  look  forward  to  seeing  you — and  let  us  have  some 
fun!!! 

Yours,  always, 

Richard. 

To  the  end  of  his  days,  and  notwithstanding 
illness,  care,  perplexity,  and  trouble,  JNIansfield  main- 
tained a  blithe  spirit  and  was,  at  times,  heartily 
propitious  to  frolic.  The  desire  to  cast  away  respon- 
sibility, to  seek  adventure,  to  visit  strange,  unfre- 


298  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

quented  places,  to  do  anything  that  would  break  the 
monotony  of  life, — the  apparently  endless  routine 
of  excitement,  as  he  called  it, — was  frequently  made 
known  to  me, — as  in  this  sportive  proposition  to 
"have  some  fun."  Also  he  possessed  the  faculty, — 
one  that  it  is  not  always  prudent  to  use, — of  play- 
ful satire.  The  French  comedian.  Constant  Coque- 
lin,  notably  one  of  the  most  self-satisfied  of  men, 
chanced  to  say  to  liim:  "I  must  always  have  one 
place,  at  least,  in  the  course  of  every  performance, 
where  I  can  go  to  sleep  for  a  few  moments."  "You 
are  lucky,"  answered  Mansfield,  "if  there  is  only 
one  place  where  your  audience  goes  to  sleep."  His 
playfulness  could  be  quizzical  as  well  as  tart.  Once, 
when  his  business  affairs  were  in  disorder  and  law- 
suits, brought  by  various  actors,  were  pending 
against  him,  he  ruminantly  remarked  to  me:  "  These 
actors  are  strange  persons!  When  they  are  idle, 
and  have  nothing  else  to  do,  I  believe  they  get 
together  and  say:  'Let's  all  go  and  sue  Mansfield!'  " 
Speaking  of  another  occasion,  when  his  scenery  and 
receipts  had  been  attached,  on  a  Saturday  night,  at 
a  theatre  in  a  New  England  town,  he  said  to  me: 
"My  agent  went  running  all  over  the  place,  scratch- 
ing fellows  on  the  wrist,  to  find  a  Free-Mason  who 
would  stand  surety  for  us."  It  sometimes  pleased 
him  to  practice  on  the  credulity  of  the  newspaper 


Courtesy  of  Mr.  Vivian  Burnilt 

RICHARD    MANSFIKI-D,    MRS.    MANSF^IELD,    AND    GEORGE 
GIBBS  MANSFIELD 


HIS    HUMOR  299 

"inter\aewer,"  and  one  consequence  of  that  prankish 
propensity  was  the  pubhcation  of  various  ridiculous 
stories  about  him.  Prior  to  his  production  of 
"JuKus  Csesar,"  for  example,  he  imparted  to  an 
"interviewer"  the  impression  that  he  intended  to 
"double"  the  parts  of  Brutus  and  Ccesar,  and  a  seri- 
ous statement  that  such  actually  was  his  purpose 
appeared  in  print.  Once,  on  a  Staten  Island  ferry- 
boat, he  was  sitting  near  to  a  boy  who  wore  a  cap 
with  three  feathers  in  it.  The  child  carelessly  took 
off  his  cap,  and,  swinging  it,  knocked  the  feathers 
out.  The  actor  immediately  picked  them  up  and 
gave  them  to  the  lad,  saying,  kindly :  "When  you  are 
a  httle  older,  my  boy,  you  will  be  more  careful  of 
the  feathers  in  your  cap."  The  feathers  in  his  own 
cap  were  in  some  peril  at  that  time,  as  he  had  recently 
added  to  his  heavy  responsibilities  the  burden  of 
managing  the  Garrick  Theatre.  His  sportive  humor 
is  suggested  (and  words  can  only  suggest  a  wag- 
gish, demure,  gay  tone,  look,  and  manner  that  can- 
not be  described)  in  the  following  letter,  addressed 
by  him  to  his  friend  Walter  P.  Phillips, — whom  to 
name  is  to  remember  signal  services  to  the  science  of 
telegraphy  and  distinctive,  illuminative,  sometimes 
touching  sketches,  written  imder  the  pen-name  of 
John  Oakum,  relative  to  that  science  and  to  notable 
exponents  of  it; 


300  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

104  W.  80th  Street,  New  York, 

August  12,  1896. 
My   Dear   Phillips: — 

.  .  .  My  servant  reports  that  there  has  been  a  paean  of 
"praise  the  Lord"  that  I  have  left  the  Club  House.  I  do 
not  wonder.  I  was  an  inconvenience  and  an  annoyance  to 
the  servants.  A  more  incompetent  set  of  lying,  lazy  scoundrels 
I  have  never  encountered.  The  head-waiter  is  a  capital  fellow, 
hard-working  and  most  competent:  the  rest — the  less  said  the 
better. 

The  bar  tender  complains  that  I  did  not  tip  him,  and  curses  me. 

To  George  I  only  gave  one  dollar.  Also  he  curses  me.  To 
Ben  I  gave  five.  "Par  consequence,"  my  horse's  shoes  came 
off  after  leaving  the  stable,  and  Ben  was  not  to  be  found  to 
carry  my  luggage  to  the   station. 

The  horse  is  here,  at  the  Club  Boarding  stable,  211  West 
76th  Street.  You  can  have  him  if  you  want  him.  He  is  a 
good  horse.  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you  for  all  your 
kindness,  and,  as  some  good  always  is  born  of  evil,  the  pleasure 
of  your  friendship  came  out  of  the  American  Yacht  Club  House. 

Pray  accept  Dick,  the  horse,  as  a  slight  souvenir  from  your 
very   obliged   friend, 

Richard   Mansfield. 

Walter   P.   Phillips,   Esq. 

In  some  respects  Mansfield  remained  a  boy  to  the 
end  of  his  hfe.  He  was  alike  whimsical  and  mis- 
chievous in  his  mirth.  One  evening,  when  at  the 
Yacht  Club  House,  in  company  with  Mr.  Phillips, 
he  suddenly  made  a  sportive  proposition,  quite 
in  the  mood  of  a  heedless  boy:  "Let  us,"  he  said, 
"steal  that  brass  cannon  down  there  on  the  pier, 
and  go  after  those  fellows  at  Larchmont.     We'll 


A   MERRY    TRICK  301 

call  on  them  to  surrender,  and,  if  they  don't,  we'll 
fire  off  the  cannon:  and  if  that  doesn't  fetch  'em — 
why,  I'll  go  up  on  the  bow  and  singT  Pompous 
affectation  annoyed  him.  At  Narragansett,  one 
summer,  there  was  a  particularly  absurd  specimen 
of  the  self-sufficient  ass,  locally  called  "Mr.  Dom- 
bey."  Mansfield,  one  afternoon,  while  swimming, 
perceived  that  ridiculous  person  posing  on  the  club 
"float,"  and  immediately  was  seized  with  an  agoniz- 
ing cramp  wliich  caused  him,  suddenly  and  fran- 
tically, to  grasp  the  edge  of  the  float  with  such  force 
that,  being  very  strong,  he  precipitated  "Mr.  Dom- 
bey"  into  the  sea;  after  which  catastrophe  the  cramp 
at  once  subsided.  When  acting  Brutus  he  habitu- 
ally made  an  error  of  emphasis  in  one  line, — "All  the 
charactery  of  my  sad  brows," — placing  the  accent, 
in  the  word  "charactery,"  on  the  first  syllable,  and  I 
ventured  to  direct  his  attention  to  the  fact  that,  in 
this  case,  the  accent  should  fall  on  the  second  syllable : 
whereupon  he  wrote:  "I  am  very  proud  of  your 
praise  and  thank  you  for  it.  I  said  charactery  last 
evening,  and  there  was  much  commotion  in  the  audi- 
ence— two  women  screamed  and  a  man  fainted  I" 
Another  example  of  his  pleasantry  was  afforded, 
on  the  occasion  of  a  dinner  party,  at  his  dwelHng 
in  New  York,  when  he  resided  in  80th  Street.  The 
time  was   nearly  summer   and  the   weather  sultry. 


302  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

"Come,"  he  gravely  said;  "let  us  all  go  and  sit  on 
the  steps  of  the  house — they  are  stone  and  cool — 
and  have  dinner  served  there — and  send  vi^ord  to 
*The  Herald'  that  Mansfield's  mannerisms  have 
broken  out  in  a  new  place."  He  was  in  earnest, 
for  a  moment,  yet  later  he  became  obviously  vexed 
that  any  of  his  guests — all  of  whom  were  friends, — 
should  have  thought  him  to  be  so. 


Detroit,  February  19,  1906. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

...  I  have  just  received  an  invitation  to  attend  a  banquet 
here,  from  the  Board  of  Commerce,  and  to  speak!  Secretary 
Taft  and  others  are  the  guests !  As  the  banquet  is  at  8  o'clock, 
and  I  play  Don  Carlos,  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  make  the  two 
ends  meet — but  I  wish  I  could  go  and  talk  a  little  about  various 
things:  there  would  be  trouble! 

When  I  am  in  New  York  I  hope  you  will  try  to  spend  some 
evening  with  me. 

Our  business  is  wonderful.  In  Pittsburgh,  against  Mme. 
Bernhardt,  $17,000.  In  Cleveland,  against  Mrs.  Fiske,  $16,000. 
Here  the  sale  is  very  large.  They  want  me  to  go  to  Paris, 
in  the  spring  of  1907.  What  do  you  think  about  it?  I  should 
like  to  go — but  they  will  rob  me,  of  course.  I  should  play 
a  repertory,  and  open  with  Ivan.      Hein? 

Always  yours, 

Richard. 


X. 

1906  TO  1907. 

In  the  spring  of  1906  he  made  known  his  inten- 
tion of  retiring  from  the  stage,  after  three  years 
more  of  professional  exertion.  The  clouds  had  begun 
to  gather.  He  was  growing  weary  of  the  long 
struggle,  jaded  in  mind  and  body,  and  dissatisfied 
with  the  result  of  his  efforts.  The  successive  deaths 
of  Jefferson  and  Irving, — the  former  on  April  23, 
the  latter  on  October  13,  1905, — had  elicited  numer- 
ous tributes,  not  only  of  admiration  but  of  affec- 
tion; and  it  seems  not  improbable  that,  pondering 
on  those  past  careers  and  on  the  eulogies  of  those 
actors,  when  their  ears  were  "stopped  with  dust," 
he  reflected  on  the  emptiness  of  fame,  and  surmised 
that,  perhaps,  notwithstanding  all  liis  earnest  labor 
in  the  cause  of  art,  and  all  his  ardent  longing  for 
human  sympathy,  he  had  fallen  short  of  the  fulfil- 
ment of  his  ambition  and  failed  to  win  the  public 
heart.  Some  such  feeling  seems  to  glimmer  through 
these  words,  that  he  wrote  to  me,  about  that  time, — 
the  settled  despondency  that  caused  him,  not  very 
long  afterward,  under  the  desolate  apprehension  of 

303 


304  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

fatal  illness,  to  say  to  his  wife,  "If  it  were  not  for 
you  and  the  boy,  I  should  not  care  how  soon  it 
ended." 

I  am  working  because  it  is  preferable  to  being  idle;  but  I 
have  very  little  to  work  for.  I  do  not  care  for  money,  and 
the  recognition  I  hoped  for  is  denied  me.  I  shall  keep  on, 
and  do  my  duty  as  I  see  it — simply,  honestly,  and  unaffectedly. 
I  think  Irving's  end  was  very  enviable.  It  was  best  so,  and 
is  always  best  so. 

...  As  for  the  rest — nothing  matters.  Life  is  a  farce — 
an  absurd  farce,  and  the  world  is  full  of  humbugs.  As  I  say, 
nothing  at  all  matters — there  is  only  Nature,  and  that  is  ever 
beautiful.  .  .  .  Treat  everything  as  a  passing  show — decide 
upon  being  well  and  jolly  and  happy,  and  you  will  be!  Let 
us  have  some  good  times  and  be  young  again.  Damme!  Always 
your  old  friend, 

Richard. 


Hotel  Jefferson,  St.   Louis, 

April  30,  1906. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  have  been  so  tired,  and  ill,  and  nervous,  that  it  has  been 
impossible  for  me  to  accomplish  anything  but  the  actual  task 
at  night.  The  season  in  New  York — the  constant  strain  and 
the  sudden  warm  weather  (in  Cincinnati  it  was  beyond  descrip- 
tion, dirty,  muggy,  heavy  and  enervating!),  all  had  its  effect 
upon  my  spirits. 

There  seems  to  have  sprung  up  a  new-born  antagonism  that 
is  venting  itself  in  all  kinds  of  ways — Magazine  articles;  and, 
in  every  review  of  the  plays  I  present,  my  mannerisms,  my 
"this,  that,  and  the  other,"  are  commented  upon,  and  I  begin 
to  doubt,  and  wonder  whether  I  am  the  dreadful  charlatan 
they  say  I  am. 


HIS    "LIFE"    PROPOSED  305 

I  recently  refused  from  the  Messrs.  Shubert  a  check  for 
$50,000,  to  sign  a  contract  with  them,  for  three  years,  to  play 
at  their  theatres.  The  fact  is  that  one  syndicate  is  as  bad  as 
another,  and  as,  now,  I  am  absolutely  independent,  and  free 
to  play  when  and  wherever  I  please,  I  do  not  care  to  sell  my 
Liberty  to  these  Jews — who  would  find  some  way  of  quarrelling 
with  me,  and  then  sue  me  for  the  return  of  the  fifty  thou- 
sand. .  .  . 

Your  beautiful  souvenir  of  the  N.  Y.  season  reached  me,  at  one 
of  the  cities,  and  touched  my  heart.  I  do  not  know  how  to 
thank  you  for  it.  I  think  I  will  have  it  printed — but  I  should 
like  you,  if  you  can  spare  the  time,  to  look  up  other  articles 
concerning  me — written  from  the  commencement  of  my  career 
in  America,  and  if  you  would  send  them  to  me  I  will  have  them 
all  reproduced  in  one  book. 

Also  I  wonder  if  you  would  care  to  undertake  a  Biography? 
It  might  interest  some  people,  and  much  in  my  early  life  was 
strange;  it  should  prove  entertaining. 

A  pity  that  you  have  to  go  to  California.  I  would  give  you 
a  little  cottage,  all  to  yourself,  at  New  London,  where  you 
would  be  very  comfortable  and  absolutely  free:  it  contains  a 
sitting-room,  bed-room,  and  bath-room,  and  it  is  surrounded  by 
flowers:  there  is  a  porch,  with  seats:  the  only  time  that  you 
would  be  disturbed  would  be  when  you  joined  our  party  at 
meals.     Think  it  over! 

I  think  an  entertaining  book  on  the  Life  of  R.  M.  from  your 
pen  might  sell  well — I  do  not  know;  but  I  think  so. 

I  am  here  for  this  week.  Next  week  at  the  Grand  Opera 
House,  Chicago,  and  then,  please  God — home  to  New  London! 
I  am  counting  the  minutes !  with  love, 

Your, 

R.   M. 


In  reply  I  told  him  that  I  had  already  planned 
and    begun     to     write    the    narrative    of    his    life. 


306  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

intending  to  make  it  a  companion  of  my  Biog- 
raphies already  published,  of  my  old  friends, 
Edwin  Booth  and  Joseph  Jefferson.  This  is  his 
response : 

415  Elm  Street,  Chicago, 

May  17,  1906. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

...  I  am  tremendously  excited  about  your  writing  the  Life 
of  R.  M.  It  is  better  than  being  knighted!  But — there  is  so 
much  to  tell — the  early  life  abroad — I  mean  my  childhood — the 
years  at  Jena — the  struggles  in  London,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  This 
can  only  be  told,  in  the  long  evenings  at  home — I  can't  write 
it:  I  can  tell  it  to  you,  and  you  can  paint  it. 

If  I  am  alive  next  year  I  propose  to  invite  you  to  go  abroad 
with  me.  We  will  travel  over  the  ground  together;  foot  for 
foot:  all  the  places  I  lived  in,  and  was  beaten  and  starved — 
my  grandfather's  vineyard — he  was  the  friend  of  poets — my 
old  Aunt,  still  living, — a  Grand  Lady;  the  school  at  Yver- 
don:  at  Bourbourg;  Derby — Oh,  well,  it  will  be  great  and 
glorious ! — 

But  you  must  not  work  so  hard.  Next  year  you  must  go  away 
with  me!  If  only,  dear  old  fellow,  you  were  coming  to  us 
at  New  London,  for  the  summer!  You  could  have  no  painful 
memories,  in  the  rose  cottage  in  which  I  would  install  you! 
But  you  would  have  quiet  and  rest,  and,  I  hope,  complete 
immunity  from  care. 

I  am  greatly  alarmed  about  the  Pennsylvania  R.  R.,  in  which 
I  have  a  very  large  sum  of  money  invested.  It  looks  as  if 
we  were  to  have  revelations  there,  too !  The  great  contempt 
that  fat,  money-making  business  men  have  always  manifested 
for  poor  damned  devils  of  writers,  and  artists  generally,  is 
about  to  meet  its  Nemesis. 

Whenever  I  play  Shyloch  I  think  of  him  as  the  wretched 
artist  and  scribbler — snubbed,  spat  upon,  and  kicked;  and  An- 


FINE    PLAYS    WANTED  307 

tonio,  the  "smug"  Antonio!,  is  all  the  fat,  bald-headed,  wheez- 
ing, canting,  Bank-Presidents,  and  Railroad  Magnates,  and 
Oleomargarine  Manufacturers  I  have  encountered,  during  my 
many  years  of  dwelling  in  a  cuspidor,  boiled  into  one.  You 
can,  therefore,  imagine  how  anxious  I  always  feel  to  slice  rashers 
off  him! 

I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  my  plans  for  next  year.  Some- 
thing must  be  done.     Since  I  have  set  the  pace  in  repertory, 

all  the  small  fry  have  come  tumbling  after — and  Mr.  

is  having  full-lengths  painted  of  himself  as  Hamlet  (evidently 
the  Ghost  has  had  an  encounter  with  a  polecat,  for  Hamlet 
seems  to  notice  a  disagreeable  odor),  Shy  lock  (tonsorial),  Mal- 
volio,  Romeo  (after  the  most  approved  model),  etc.,  etc.,  etc., 
I  want  something  sweet  and  dear  and  lovely.  No  more  Beasts ! 
But,  no  one  writes  anything!  Everything  is  a  pose  and  a 
fad. 

I  leave  here  on  Monday  morning,  and  I  shall  be  in  Milwaukee 
on  the  22nd,  and  23rd.  On  Sunday  27th,  I  shall,  please  God! 
reach  home — New  London.  Would  it  not  be  possible  for  you 
to  spend  at  least  a  week  with  me,  there,  before  you  go  to 
California? 

Yours  always, 

Richard. 

The  time  was  now  drawing  near  when  all  Mans- 
field's toil  was  to  be  set  at  naught,  when  all  his 
ambitious  striving  and  noble  achievement  was  to 
come  to  an  end,  not  as  he  had  dreamed  and  hoped, 
in  peaceful  retirement  from  the  active  world,  but  in 
one  black  fatality  of  disappointment,  and  in  pro- 
tracted suffering  and  premature  death.  The  vic- 
tory, indeed,  had  been  gained,  in  so  far  as  public 
admiration  can  be  called  victory.     Fame  had  been 


308  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

established.  Wealth  had  been  accumulated.  On 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  the  name  of  Richard 
Mansfield  was  known  and  honored.  London  was 
open  to  him,  had  he  chosen  to  revisit  that  capital. 
He  was  asked  to  appear  at  the  Theatre  Sarah 
Bernhardt,  in  Paris,  and  he  was  inclined  to  do  so, 
for,  not  unnaturally,  the  thought  of  a  brilliant  fare- 
well season  on  the  European  stage  would  sometimes 
come  into  his  mind.  He  had,  however,  determined 
that  there  should  be  a  limit  to  his  prodigious  toil, 
and  he  remained  resolute  in  his  determination.  He 
would  begin  the  year  1910  as  a  private  man,  and 
the  Stage  should  see  him  no  more.  But  the  release 
had  been  too  long  delayed  and  even  the  thought  of 
relief  had  come  too  late.  In  the  summer  and  autumn 
of  1906  the  effects  of  sickness  and  weariness  became 
more  and  more  evident  in  his  conduct  and  in  his 
letters.  He  suffered  much  from  dyspepsia  and  dis- 
order of  the  liver,  and  his  nervous  system  was  com- 
pletely shattered.  The  burdens  imposed  on  him 
were  many  and  heavy,  and  his  mind  was  continually 
troubled  with  anxiety  about  the  future.  His  let- 
ters to  me  revealed  an  ever-deepening  melancholy 
and  almost  hourly  fluctuations  of  feeling  and  changes 
of  plan.  A  sense  of  isolation  and  loneliness,  long 
familiar  to  him,  seemed  to  color  all  his  thoughts. 
He  brooded  much  upon  the  troubles  of  life,  and, 


A   FATAL   MISTAKE  309 

at  times,  convinced  himself  that  he  was  universally 
misunderstood  and  disliked.  The  imperative  neces- 
sity of  shaping  a  course  for  the  new  theatrical 
season  was  ever  present  in  his  consciousness,  to 
agitate  and  perplex  him.  He  had  asked  for  my 
counsel, — as  for  many  years  had  been  his  custom, — 
and  I  had  given  it;  advising  him  to  augment  his 
Shakespearean  repertory  by  acting  King  John,  or 
by  producing  "Henry  the  Fourth"  and  then  "The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  and  acting  Falstaff. 
No  actor  possessed  of  such  a  fine  intellect  and  such 
abundance  of  rich  humor  has  attempted  Falstaff  on 
our  stage  within  the  last  fifty  years.  At  first  the 
plan  seemed  to  interest  him,  but  he  soon  became 
indifferent  to  it,  and  eventually  rejected  it.  The 
idea  had  become  persuasive  in  his  belief  that  prac- 
tical success  on  the  stage  could  be  obtained  only  by 
striking  out  a  new  path,  by  showing  odd  and  strange 
spectacles,  and  by  being  singular.  It  was  essential 
that  liis  new  season  should  prove  largely  remunerative, 
for  he  had  assumed  various  exacting  personal  obli- 
gations, had  engaged  a  numerous  and  expensive 
theatrical  company,  and  had  bound  himself  by  con- 
tract to  act  in  various  places  and  for  various  periods; 
and,  kno^ving  that  much  money  would  be  needed, 
with  which  to  fulfil  all  his  promises  and  duties,  he 
reasoned   that   the    safe    course    would    be    that    of 


310  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

extreme,  emphatic  eccentricity.  It  was  a  mistake, 
and  it  proved  a  fatal  one.  The  choice  that  he  made, 
probably  under  injudicious  advisement,  was  that 
of  recourse  to  one  of  the  most  bizarre  and  weari- 
some fads  of  the  period,  the  lugubrious,  murky, 
tedious  Henrik  Ibsen,  a  writer  with  whose  works, 
according  to  his  repeated  assurance,  he  had  little 
or  no  sympathy.  The  play  that  he  selected  was 
"Peer  Gynt," — one  of  the  least  obnoxious  of  the 
Norwegian  dramatist's  pessimistic  ebullitions,  but, 
for  the  stage,  a  hopeless  tangle  of  fantasy  and 
obscurity,  such  as  he  never  would  have  chosen  if 
his  mind  had  not  been  clouded  by  sickness  and 
morbid  dejection, — and,  having  selected  "Peer 
Gynt,"  his  next  movement  was  to  request  me,  very 
earnestly,  to  "read  it  through,  three  times,"  and  to 
make  a  stage  version  of  it,  for  his  use.  I  was 
anxious  about  him,  and  deeply  desirous  that  he 
should  succeed,  but  I  could  not  approve  of  his 
project,  and  I  declined  association  Avith  it.  The 
Ibsen  movement  which,  in  America,  began  in  18 — , 
with  the  late  Helena  Modjeska's  introduction  of 
"A  Doll's  House,"  under  the  name  of  "Thora," 
and  which  has  purled  along,  ever  since,  in  a  sickly 
and  more  or  less  obscure  way,  impressed  me,  from 
the  beginning,  as  unhealthful  and  injurious.  The 
province  of  art,  and  especially  of  dramatic  art,  is 


VIEWS    ABOUT    IBSEN  311 

beauty,  not  deformity;  the  need  of  the  world  is  to 
be  cheered,  not  depressed ;  and  an  author  who  avows, 
as  Ibsen  did,  that  he  goes  down  into  the  sewers, — 
whatever  be  the  purpose  of  his  descent  into  those 
insalubrious  regions, — should  be  left  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  them.  Each  to  his  taste.  The  colloquies 
written  by  Ibsen  are,  variously,  mawkish,  morose, 
and  tainted,  and  that  author,  proclaimed  as  an 
artist  in  drama  or  a  sound  leader  of  thought, 
is  a  grotesque  absurdity.  The  letter  that  I  wrote 
to  Mansfield  on  that  occasion,  together  with  his 
reply,  will  serve  to  illustrate  this  subject  and  these 
statements : 


The  Grange,  New  London, 

August  li,  1906. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

...  I  have  been  trying  to  rest  and  also  trying  to  find  a 
cure  for  the  stubborn  and  chronic  dyspepsia  that  is  torturing 
me — so  far  without  success.  Also,  we  have  cast  about  in  every 
direction  for  something  to  do  next  season.  In  view  of  the 
number  of  companies  now  presenting  fifty  cent  Shakespeare, 
we  have  had  to  abandon  any  idea  in  that  direction,  and  the 
old  plays  that  were  popular  once  are  not  for  now.  It  has 
to  be  something  extraordinary;  something  new  and  quite  out 
of  the  common !  Where  to  find  it .'' ! !  Also — I  am  not  satisfied 
or  interested  in   ordinary  things.    .    .    . 

I  have  finally  decided  upon  "Peer  Gynt."  I  know  you  do 
not  like  Ibsen,  and,  in  the  main,  I  do  not.  But  no  man,  no 
poet  of  late  years,  has  written  anything  quite  as  fine  as  "Peer 
Gynt."     The  more   I   study   it  the  more  convinced   I   am   that 


312  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

it  is  a  most  remarkable  work.  Full  of  beautiful  thought;  full 
of  pathos  and  sorrow, — the  eternal  heritage  of  man, — in  the 
first  acts.  In  the  latter,  satire,  playful  humor,  and,  finally, 
great  sadness.  Will  you  read  it,  and  re-read  it,  carefully  and 
thoughtfully?  I  am  going  to  do  it — if  possible  wonderfully.  I 
shall  need  your  help.  Can't  you  come  to  me  here,  at  least 
for  a  week?  The  place  is  so  changed  you  will  not  remember 
the  Edwin  Booth  days  at  all,  and  you  will  be  comfortable  and 
happy.  I  want  to  arrange  the  play  with  you.  There  is  no  one 
but  you  to  help  me.     Come .'' ! ! 

Your, 

R.    M. 

Mentone,  California, 

August  19,  1906. 
My  Dear  Mansfield: — 

...  I  do  not  think  that  you  should  abandon  Shakespeare 
because  other  actors  are  trying  to  present  his  plays  and  are 
not  presenting  them  well.  You  could  win  another  laurel  with 
King  John  or  with  Falstaff.  However,  it  is,  probably,  useless 
for   me   to   descant   on   that   subject. 

As  to  Ibsen — I  think  you  are  possessed  of  my  opinion.  I 
have  read  many  of  his  plays,  and  I  have  seen  several  of  them 
on  the  stage.  He  was  a  man  of  talent,  but  narrow,  morbid, 
dismal,  depressing,  and  sometimes  nasty.  He  says  nothing  that 
has  not  been  better  said  by  earlier  and  better  writers.  I  cannot 
conceive  of  any  circumstances  under  which  I  would  contribute 
in  any  way,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  aid  or  favor  the  Ibsen 
movement.  I  am  earnestly  and  deeply  desirous  to  promote  your 
welfare  and  happiness,  and  as  long  as  I  am  writing  I  shall 
write  thoughtfully,  justly,  and  kindly  about  your  acting;  but 
if  you  go  into  the  Ibsen  business  you  must  go  without  me. 
I  will  not  touch  "Peer  Gynt"  or  anything  else  from  Ibsen's 
pen.   .    .    . 

Faithfully  yours, 

William  Winter. 


"HOBSON'S    CHOICE"  313 

The  Grange,  New  London,  Conn. 

August  27,  1906. 
My  Dear  Winter: — 

I  am  in  receipt  of  your  letter.  The  reason  I  did  not  com- 
municate with  you  was  that  I  have  been  very  ill  again,  with 
nervous  dyspepsia,  and  have  suffered  so  keenly  that  I  could 
not  write  to  any  one  or  think  reasonably  of  anything.  I  was 
in  great  despondency  and  misery  for  weeks.  I  have  two  fami- 
lies to  support  in  America,  and  four  families  in  Europe,  and 
I  have  to  think  very  hard,  and  work  very  hard,  to  make  the 
necessary  income.  I  do  not  expect  or  ask  for  any  assistance 
from  any  one.  I  am  glad  to  be  of  service  to  my  friends,  and 
all  I  ask  is  their  friendship.  I  am  generally  alone,  and  I 
have  to  do  what  seems  most  likely  to  support,  becomingly, 
those  who  are  dependent  on  me. 

There  is  a  plethora  of  Shakespearean  productions  this  year, 
and  there  is  a  faddish,  restless  spirit  in  the  air.  Ordinary 
things  will  not  draw.  I  do  not  love  Ibsen, — but  something 
novel  and  extraordinary  has  to  be  found.  I  propose  playing 
"Peer  Gynt"  in  a  spirit  of  travesty,  and  to  present  it  as  a 
"phantasmagoria."  I  shall  leave  it  to  the  people  to  find  out 
the  fun.  At  present  there  is  nothing  else  in  sight.  I  may, 
however,  find  something.  I  would,  of  course,  prefer  Jonson, 
or  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.  These  are  hard  times  for  us,  and 
in  doing  "Peer  Gynt"  I  am  simply, — as  I  did  in  "Cyrano," — 
working  for  the  sinews  of  war,  in  order  to  accomplish  other 
and  better  things.  Also  I  want  to  hoist  the  Ibsen  craze  with 
its  own  petard.  If  "Peer  Gynt"  doesn't  do  it,  nothing  will! 
Mrs.  Mansfield  is  absolutely  adamant  about  Falstaff,  and  will 
not  countenance  it. 

There  is  hardly  a  play, — a  great  play, — that  has  not  some 
objectionable  features.  Of  course,  everybody  is  weary  to  death 
of  the  Third,  Fourth,  Fifth,  and  Sixth  Mrs.  Tanqueray  and 
the  connubial  noodle,  and  you  can't  very  well  write  a  play  on 
any  historical  subject  without  running  against  some  dirt,  whether 
it   be   Louis   XIV.,   or   Marie   Antoinette   and    Louis    XVI.,   or 


314  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

Charles  I.,  or  Charles  II.,  or  Henry  VIII. ;  and  you  can't  present 
the  plays  of  Shakespeare  without  getting  into  trouble.  When, 
for  instance,  I  read  your  advice  concerning  Falstaff  to  my  wife, 
she  said  to  me:  "If  you  ever  appear  as  that  disgusting  old  man, 
and  speak  those  horrid  lines,  I  will  never  look  at  you  again!" 
But  what's   the  use  of  talking? 

In  King  John  there  is  nothing  for  me,  and  the  whole  summer 
I  have  worried  and  thought — but  can  find  naught.  My  com- 
pany is  enormous.  My  contracts  are  signed.  I  have  to  play 
five  weeks  in  Chicago,  commencing  the  last  day  in  October. 
We  closed  there  late  in  the  spring,  with  the  repertory.  I  have 
a  charming  play,  on  "L'Ami  Fritz,"  by  Erckmann-Chatrian, 
that  I  shall  do  later,  but  it  would  not  fill  the  house  for  five 
weeks. 

Last  season  "Don  Carlos"  only  drew  for  a  night  or  two; 
Moliere  in  Boston  one  performance,  only  half  a  house !  I  am 
forced  to  do  odd  and  extraordinary  stuff,  to  keep  the  pot 
boiling.  No  one  is  writing  anything.  There  is  not  a  Dramatic 
Author  in  sight!  No  one  comes  near  me.  I  am  entirely  alone. 
Every  manager  and  actor  in  the  country  is  ready  to  cut  my 
throat.  If  my  receipts  decline  I  am  lost.  I  am  forced  to  fight 
with  the  weapons  I  can  find. 

I  am  sorry  to  offend  you,  or  to  do  anything  to  lessen  or 
impair  our  long  friendship,  and  that  is  why  I  write  at  length, 
so  that  you  may  understand  my  position.  I  am  trying  to  sell 
the  property  here  and  in  New  York,  and  to  buy  a  little  place 
in  England,  and  retire  from  a  conflict  that  becomes  more  and 
more  hopeless.  I  have  worked  so  hard  that  I  have  practically 
destroyed  my  nervous  force,  and  I  cannot  recuperate  or  get 
completely  well,  under  the  constant  strain.  God  bless  you.  I 
know  how  hard  you  are  working,  but  I  feel  you  do  not  quite 
comprehend  how  deeply  and  sincerely  I  sympathize  with  you. 
In  fact,  I  do  not  suppose  anybody  realizes  how  much  I  long  for 
that  friendship  and  affection  and  regard  which  is  denied  me. 

Yours   as   always, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


"THE    PAPERS"  315 

That  letter,  obviously  the  emanation  of  a  care- 
worn mind,  was  soon  followed  by  another,  still  more 
expressive  of  perplexity  and  dejection,  and,  only 
because  I  had,  by  reason  of  sudden,  imperative  pro- 
fessional duty,  been  compelled  to  break  an  engage- 
ment to  dine  with  him,  bidding  me  "a  long  farewell" 
and  conveying  the  assurance  that  I  should  never 
hear  from  him  again. 

"I  think,"  he  added,  "perhaps  you  may  be  under  the  im- 
pression that  I  care  what  the  papers  say  about  me.  I  do  not. 
I  very  rarely  read  them,  and  as  they  have  consistently  abused 
me,  for  many  years,  whenever  there  was  the  slightest  oppor- 
tunity, I  have  long  ago  ceased  to  bother  my  head  about  them.  •  .  . 
I  am  for  an  island  and  solitude,  and  I  do  not  care  two  pennies 
about  the  Stage  or  the  Drama — I'm  utterly  sick  of  it.  As  for 
Friendship,  it  seems  no  longer  to  exist." 

As  I  had  always  counselled  liim  not  to  read  news- 
paper articles  about  liis  acting  or  himself  I  was 
under  no  impression  that  he  ought  to  be  solicitous 
as  to  those  publications,  and  should  have  been  very 
glad  to  believe  the  assurance  that  he  had  ceased 
to  regard  them.  Once  I  sent  to  him  a  motto 
which  I  had  read,  graved  in  the  stone  over  an  old 
English  fireplace:  "They  have  said  and  they  will 
say:  Let  them  be  saying!"  But,  customarily,  he 
worried  about  newspaper  commentaries, — although, 
in  latter  years,  his  devoted  wife  ^\isely  and 
firmly    protested    against    his    reading    them    and, 


316  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

as  far  as  possible,  kept  such  screeds  from  his 
knowledge. 

I  knew  and  valued  Mansfield  far  too  well  to 
take  offence  at  his  whims,  and  a  line  of  friendly 
explanation  immediately  elicited  a  letter  as  affec- 
tionate as  its  predecessor  had  been  splenetic.  We 
soon  met,  his  purposed  venture  with  the  Ibsen 
Drama  was  discussed,  and,  finding  him  committed 
to  that  experiment,  from  which  I  would  gladly  have 
dissuaded  him,  all  was  said  that  could  be  said  to 
cheer  him.  Seldom  has  there  been,  in  public  life, 
a  being  so  sensitive  to  opinion,  so  susceptible  of 
being  pained,  or  to  whom  encouragement  was  so 
vitally  essential,  and  seldom  has  there  been  a  being 
who  veiled  liis  sensibihty  under  such  an  austere 
guise  of  cold  indifference. 

On  October  29,  1906,  at  the  Grand  Opera  House, 
Chicago,  Mansfield  began  his  last  theatrical  season, 
producing  the  play  of  "Peer  Gynt,"  which  then  had 
its  first  representation  in  America.  As  a  curiosity 
it  was  received  with  attention,  and  as  the  venture 
of  an  admirable  and  much-admired  actor  it  was 
viewed  with  kindness  and  recorded  with  respect;  but 
it  soon  languished  and,  before  leaving  Chicago,  he 
was  constrained  to  re-enforce  it  with  his  repertory. 
The  effort  to  act  Peer  Gynt  in  such  a  way  as  to 
make  the  part  effective  had,   meanwliile,   depleted 


"A    SOP    TO    CERBERUS"  317 

his  strength,  and  he  became  so  ill  that  he  was  obliged 
to  take  a  recess  and  come  home  for  a  week  of  rest. 
He  ceased  acting,  February  16,  at  Philadelphia, 
and  came  to  New  York. 

316  Riverside  Drive,  New  York, 

February  18,  1907. 
My   Dear  Winter: — 

.  .  .  This  will  be  my  one  and  only  Ibsen  venture,  and  I 
have  no  intention  of  going  any  farther  in  that  direction.  .  .  . 
The  greater  part  of  it  is  good, — written  when  Ibsen  was  less 
Ibsen  than  he  became  later.  When  we  meet,  which  I  hope  may 
be  soon,  I  would  like  to  talk  things  over  with  you  and  discuss 
what  had  best  be  done;  in  the  meanwhile,  I  have  presented  this 
"sop  to  Cerberus,"  and  I  have  sugar-coated  it  and  put  laughing 
gas  into  it,  so  that  the  operation  may  be  painless. 

The  very  unfortunate  part  of  the  actor's  work  is  that  he 
must  make  people  come  and  see  him  act;  if  they  don't  come, 
it's  no  use  acting:  and  every  year,  that  more  and  more  difficult 
question  confronts  me. 

I  don't  like  Sardou:  I  don't  think  that  Irving  did,  but  he 
actually  produced  "Mme.  Sans-Gene."  That  was  his  sop  to 
Cerberus,  eh  ?     It  was  the  same  old  story — and  it  is ! 

"O,  for  a  play!" 
I   don't  like   Ibsen — but   I   think   "Peer   Gynt"   is   better   than 
"Mme.   Sans-Gene." 

I  have  an  important  offer,  very.  I  shall  want  to  talk  to 
you  about  it.  When  will  you  be  here?  Sunday?  My  love 
to  you  all ! 

I  shall  be  happy  when  this  season  is  over.  The  work  is  too 
hard: 

O,  for  a  cottage, 
A  cottage  for  me ! 
Embowered  in  roses. 
And  fanned  by  the  sea! 


318  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

A  little  thing  of  my  own !     Come  soon,  and  see  what  remains  of 
your  friend  IViUcins. 

Yours  as  ever, 

Richard  Mansfield. 


On  February  25,  at  the  New  Amsterdam  Theatre, 
he  began,  in  New  York,  the  engagement  that  was 
to  prove  his  last.  It  covered  a  period  of  four 
weeks.  The  opening  play  was  "Peer  Gynt,"  to 
which  a  chapter  is  devoted  in  the  second  volume  of 
this  biography.  That  play  was  performed  for  three 
weeks,  after  which  time  Mansfield  heeded  his  doc- 
tor's warning,  and  changed  the  bill.  Later  he  was 
seen  as  Dimmesdale,  Brummell,  Chevrial,  and  Jekyll 
and  Hyde,  At  this  time  I  had  commended  to  his 
attention  a  short  play,  of  remarkable  power,  called 
"The  Goal,"  by  that  fine  dramatist,  Henry  Arthur 
Jones, — tliinking  it  might,  perhaps,  be  obtained  for 
his  use,  and  made  practicable  in  association  with  a 
light  comedy.     To  this  suggestion  he  answered: 

SI 6  Riverside  Drive,  New  York, 

March  8,   1907. 
Dear  Old  Friend: — 

I  have  been  greatly  depressed  and  very  wretched,  but  I  am 
better  to-day.  The  strain  of  playing  Peer  Gynt  was  too  great. 
I  am  returning  you  the  little  play  of  Jones's,  because  I  never 
produce  one  act  plays,  for  the  reason  that  no  one  ever  comes 
to  see  them,  and  they  necessitate  the  doing  of  two  other  plays 
on  the  same  evening. 


HIS    LAST    LETTER  319 

When  we  meet  I  hope  to  tell  you  of  my  plans,  i  must  make 
some  money  and  get  out.  I  see  that  actors  with  a  small  play 
and  a  small  cast  can  make  a  million:  I  must  try  it.  We,  alas, 
are  comparatively  poor,  and  if  we  had  to  live,  to-morrow,  on 
what  we  have,  our  income  would  be  very  small. 

Try  to  come  next  Sunday.  I  will  send  the  motor  to  meet 
you,  if  you  like.  By  the  way,  B.  would  not  allow  me  to  read 
the  reviews  of  "Peer,"  but  now  I  have  seen  your  article:  it  was 
as  generous  and  as  kindly  as  you  could  make  it,  holding  the  views 
you  do  (with  which,  entre  nous,  I  agree,  but  B.,  and  others  do 
not).  No  more  Ibsen!  Still,  of  course,  since  I  have  made  the 
venture,  I  wanted  it  to  be  successful. 

Yours  as  ever, 

R.    M; 


A  little  later,  and  while  the  Ibsen  play  was  still 
current  (it  was  withdrawn  on  March  16),  he  wrote 
the  following  letter, — the  last  piece  of  writing  that 
I  ever  received  from  him,  and  inexpressibly  precious 
to  me,  as  a  token  that  his  esteem  and  affection  had 
survived  every  trial,  and  that  I  had  only  done  liim 
justice  in  always  telling  him  what  I  believed  to  be 
the  truth. 


316  Riverside  Drive,  New  York. 
My   Dear   Old   Friend: — 

You  are  ever  true,  and,  as  B.  said  this  morning,  "the  only 
man  with  the  courage  of  his  opinions !"  Thank  God  for  You ! 
I  do  hope  we  shall  see  you  on  Sunday,  and  we  will  confer !  Is 
there  anything  in  the  world  I  can  do  for  You? 

As  always, 

R.   M. 


320  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

At  the  time  when  Mansfield  produced  "Peer 
Gynt"  he  was  favored  with  some  newspaper  cen- 
sure, on  the  ground  that  he  had  "desecrated"  Ibsen, 
by  omitting  portions  of  that  writer's  "Poem."  There 
is  no  desecration  involved  in  the  rejection  of  non- 
sense, and  the  fact  is  that  the  actor  retained,  in  his 
stage-version  of  "Peer  Gynt,"  every  shred  of  the 
original  that  could  be  made  effective  in  a  theatrical 
performance,  as  well  as  much  that  could  not.  The 
scenes  that  pass  in  a  mad-house  were  discarded,  but 
as  many  auditors,  on  hearing  the  play,  felt  that 
they  had  strayed  into  one,  those  "poetic"  gems  could 
not  have  been  seriously  missed.  Mansfield  did  every- 
thing that  zeal  could  prompt  or  ingenuity  and  labor 
accomplish  to  exploit  a  radically  undramatic  and 
dismally  obscure  composition,  and  he  bore,  in  the 
manifestation  of  it,  one  of  the  heaviest  burdens  ever 
assimied  by  an  actor.  There  is,  in  the  writings  of 
Ibsen,  an  intellectual  value  that  is  perfectly  well 
known  and  has  been  clearly  designated.  He  is  a 
didactic  writer,  who  announces  that  human  nature  is 
vile  and  human  society  corrupt.  But  his  composi- 
tions are  not  dramatic,  and,  even  if  they  were,  they 
would  not  be  desirable  on  the  stage,  because  their 
teaching  is,  in  general,  false,  they  are  often  offensive 
to  good  taste,  and  they  are  wearisome  and  depress- 
ing.    It  was  unfortunate  for  Mansfield  that  he  was 


LAST   PERFORMANCE  321 

ever  persuaded  to  resort  to  the  Ibsen  fad.  He  con- 
sidered, however,  that  it  was  "in  the  air."  Per- 
sons in  London  calhng  themselves  "Souls"  had 
propagated  it,  and  persons  in  New  York  and  Boston, 
imitative  of  those  "Souls,"  had  imported  it;  and  so 
he  felt  that  it  must  be  tried.  Hence  his  production 
of  "Peer  Gynt."  In  the  hght  of  what  is  now 
known  we  know  that  he  was  already  doomed:  but 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  tremendous  effort 
which  he  made  to  vitalize  the  part  of  Peer  Gynt, 
to  make  it  natural,  intelligible,  and  dramatically 
effective,  and  thus  to  interest  and  hold  the  public 
and  to  win  a  splendid  success,  accelerated  the 
progress  of  his  disease  and  precipitated  the  catas- 
trophe of  his  death. 

The  last  days  of  Mansfield  were  inexpressibly 
afflicting  and  sorrowful.  On  March  23,  at  an  after- 
noon performance,  he  acted  Peer  Gynt,  and  in  the 
evening  of  that  day  he  acted  Baron  Chevrial.  In 
both  performances  it  was  evident  that  he  was  suf- 
fering, and  when,  after  the  death-scene  of  Cheviial, 
he  came  before  the  curtain,  responding  to  a  tumultu- 
ous call  for  a  speech,  he  was  so  weak  that  he  could 
hardly  stand.  His  voice  faltered,  but  he  made  a 
brave  effort  and  spoke  very  earnestly  and  sweetly, 
thanking  the  audience  and  the  general  public  for 
kindness,  alluding  to  certain  aspersions  which  had 


322  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

been  cast  upon  him  in  some  of  the  local  news- 
papers, and  expressing  regret  that  evil  should  have 
been  spoken  of  him,  and  that  it  should  have  been 
credited  only  because  it  had  been  spoken.  Those 
were  the  last  words  he  ever  said  upon  the  stage. 
For  a  moment  he  gazed  upon  the  multitude  then 
standing  before  him, — for  the  house  had  risen, — 
bowed  slightly,  the  expression  of  his  countenance 
being  very  sad,  and  slowly  withdrew.  On  the  next 
day,  March  24,  he  went  to  Scranton,  Pa.,  where 
he  was  to  act  on  the  night  of  March  25,  but  his 
sickness  increased  and  the  physician  called  to  attend 
him  forbade  him  to  appear.  He  expected  to  act 
on  the  next  evening,  but  was  not  able  to  do  so, 
and  he  was  then  immediately  brought  back  to  New 
York,  and  all  liis  theatrical  engagements  were  pres- 
ently cancelled,  it  being  clearly  manifest  that  he 
could  not  fulfil  them.  During  several  weeks  he 
remained  in  his  house,  316  Riverside  Drive,  under 
medical  care.  His  condition  underwent  many 
changes;  his  suffering  at  times  was  great;  but  slowly 
he  gained  a  little  strength.  He  had  for  some  time 
been  determined  on  a  journey  to  England.  His 
passage  was  engaged  for  May  4,  but  he  was  not 
able  to  sail.  I  saw  him  on  the  morning  of  May  11. 
"I  told  them  I  would  see  you,  Willy,"  he  said, 
"even  if  I  were  dying."    We  sat  together  for  some 


-M 


Photograph  hy  I'urli   liros. 

RICHARD  MANSFIELD 

At  His  Home,  316  Rli'crnide  Drive,  Xew  York 


OUR   PARTING  323 

time.  He  did  not  speak  much,  nor  could  I  speak 
much  to  liim.  It  seemed  best  that  we  should  both 
pretend  to  believe  that  he  would  soon  be  well,  but 
I  knew  that  I  should  never  see  him  again.  When 
he  did  speak  it  was  httle  more  than  a  murmured 
word  or  two.  His  mind  was  busy  ^vith  the  past. 
Several  times  he  mentioned  Jefferson  and  his  paint- 
ings. "Studies  in  green  they  are,"  he  said.  Once 
he  spoke  aloud  to  himself:  "I  have  not  lived  a  bad 
life."  Presently  I  rose  to  go  and  clasped  his  hand 
and  said  good-by.  At  the  door  I  turned  to  look  at 
him  once  more.  He  was  sitting  huddled  in  his  chair; 
his  figure  was  much  emaciated;  his  clothes  hung 
loosely  about  him;  his  face  was  pale  and  very 
wretched  in  expression,  and  I  saw,  in  his  eyes,  as 
he  looked  at  me,  that  he  knew  our  parting  was 
forever.  I  went  back  and  kissed  his  forehead  and 
pressed  his  hand  and  so  came  away.  We  never  met 
again.  Since  then  I  have  stood  beside  his  grave. 
Life  seems  to  be  chiefly  made  up  of  farewells  like 
that  and  memories  like  these. 

On  May  12,  aboard  the  Minneapolis,  he  sailed 
for  London.  When  ill  he  had  always  wished  to  be 
alone,  if  possible,  and  it  had  been  arranged,  at  his 
positive  insistence,  that  Mrs.  Mansfield  and  their 
son  should  follow  him  aboard  a  steamer  sailing  a 
week  later.    He  was  accompanied  by  two  attendants. 


324  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

On  arriving  in  England  he  went  to  Brighton, 
with  his  elder  brother,  Felix.  There,  within  a  few 
days,  he  was  joined  by  his  wife  and  boy.  A  httle 
later  he  was  moved  to  a  pleasant  country  house, 
Moonhill,  Cuckfield,  in  the  lovely  county  of  Sussex. 
He  had  hoped  for  benefit  to  liis  health,  from  the 
Atlantic  voyage  and  from  the  restful  influence  of 
the  English  rural  environment,  which  he  loved,  but 
the  hope  was  bitterly  disappointed.  The  weather 
was  coarse  and  chill,  and  he  grew  steadily  worse. 
His  condition  was,  indeed,  wretched,  and,  looking 
back  to  that  time,  it  now  seems  probable  that  his 
physicians  only  acceded  to  his  desire  to  go  abroad 
because  they  knew  that,  whether  abroad  or  at  home, 
he  was  beyond  the  reach  of  mortal  aid.  To  a  friend 
who  visited  him  at  Moonhill  he  said  that  "all  had 
been  done  that  was  possible"  and  he  knew  the  end 
was  inevitable.  He  now  insisted  on  an  immediate 
return  to  America,  and  in  July  he  sailed,  aboard 
the  Virginia,  with  Mrs.  Mansfield  and  their  boy  and 
his  brother  Felix.  On  July  26  they  landed  at  Mon- 
treal, from  which  city  he  was  conveyed,  by  special 
train,  to  Ampersand,  Lake  Saranac,  where  he 
remained  for  a  short  time,  pending  the  completion 
of  alterations  in  a  house  called  "Seven  Acres,"  one 
of  the  three  houses  which  he  owned,  in  Ocean  Ave- 


DEATH  825 

nue,  New  London,  Conn.  His  favorite  residence 
there  was  "The  Grange,"  where  "he  had  everything 
as  he  wanted  it,"  but  that  house,  unfortunately, 
had  been  leased.  "Seven  Acres,"  being  empty,  had 
been  converted  from  a  farmhouse  into  a  cosy,  ram- 
bhng,  cheerful  dwelling,  and  it  pleased  him  much. 
In  that  cottage  he  was  installed  on  August  22. 
On  his  arrival  there  he  appeared  to  rally  a  little, — 
the  flame  of  life  leaping  up,  as  it  sometimes  will, 
before  it  is  extinguished, — but  his  endurance  was 
almost  at  an  end.  His  immediate  death,  however, 
was  not  expected  by  his  family.  In  the  early  hours 
of  Friday,  August  30,  there  came  a  change.  lie 
was  alone,  except  for  a  nurse,  who  presently  came 
to  Mrs.  Mansfield,  who  was  waiting  at  his  bed- 
room door.  "His  pulse  is  very  weak,"  the  nurse 
said.  His  wife  went  to  him,  took  his  hand,  and 
knelt  beside  him,  repeating  the  words  "God  is  life." 
He  was  conscious  and  knew  her;  presently  he  drew 
her  toward  him  and  kissed  her,  and,  as  he  lay  back, 
he  smiled.  "God  is  life,"  she  whispered.  "God  is 
love,"  he  said,  very  slowlj'',  and  with  those  words 
upon  liis  lips  he  sank  into  a  lethargy  and  knew  no 
more.  The  end  was  long  in  coming,  but  the  real 
end  came  as  he  spoke.  At  forty  minutes  past  six 
o'clock  he  ceased  to  breathe.  He  was  in  the  fifty- 
fourth  year  of  his  age. 


326  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

The  funeral  and  burial  of  JNIansfield  occurred  on 
INIonday,  September  2,  at  noon.  He  had  requested 
that  the  ceremony  should  be  simple,  and  his  wish 
was  fulfilled.  The  Episcopal  ser\dce  for  the  burial 
of  the  dead  was  read  by  the  rector  of  St.  James's 
Church,  New  London,  Rev.  Dr.  Alfred  Pool  Grant, 
who  also  dehvered  a  brief  eulogy  of  the  deceased 
actor.  Those  rites  were  performed  in  the  house  of 
"Seven  Acres,"  in  the  room  that  had  been  destined 
as  Mansfield's  study.  The  day  was  one  of  storm, 
and  a  heavy  rain  was  falling  when  the  funeral  pro- 
cession moved  from  the  house  to  the  cemetery.  The 
body,  in  a  plain  black  coffin,  was  borne  by  eight 
persons,  members  of  the  police  of  New  London. 
The  nominal  pall-bearers,  w^ho  walked  beliind  the 
coffin,  were  Commodore  John  Parker,  U.S.N., 
Colonel  A.  C.  Tyler,  Mr.  Benjamin  L.  Stevens, 
Mr.  Paul  Wilstach,  Mr.  Robert  Appleton,  Mr. 
Rutger  Jewett,  Dr.  William  Appleton,  and  Mr. 
Roland  P.  Keasby.  The  widow  and  Felix  Mans- 
field, brother  of  the  deceased,  followed  the  bearers, 
and  were  in  turn  followed  by  other  mourners.  The 
committal  ser^ace  was  read  at  the  grave,  Newman's 
hymn,  "Lead,  Kindly  Light,"  was  sung,  by  a  quar- 
tette, and  the  coffin  was  lowered  into  a  steel  vault. 
All  persons  then  left  the  cemetery,  except  INIrs. 
Mansfield,  who  remained  for  some  time,   kneeling. 


SUIMJMARY  327 

in  prayer,  beside  the  open  vault,  which  had  been 
heavily  hned  with  hemlock  boughs  and  many-colored 
hydrangeas.  The  vault  was  then  sealed  and  covered 
with  earth  and  sods.  The  grave  of  INIansfield  is  in 
a  secluded  corner  of  a  little  cemetery  situated 
almost  opposite  to  the  house  in  which  he  died,  and 
visible  from  it.  Hedges  of  evergreen  encompass  the 
square  of  earth  in  which  his  ashes  rest,  and  over  it 
the  sea-breeze  whispers  in  the  trees,  and  round  it  all 
is  peace. 


Mansfield  was  conscious  of  the  possession  of  great 
natural  powers.  He  loved  everj^  form  of  Art. 
He  worshipped  Beauty.  He  longed  to  express 
himself.  He  earnestly  desired  to  win  eminence  and 
to  exercise  a  beneficial  influence  upon  society. 
Looking  abroad  upon  the  community  he  saw  that 
distinction,  wealth,  and  power  were  possessed  by 
many  persons  of  inferior  ability,  and  he  resented 
that  injustice  and  became  intolerant  of  it.  He  did 
not  know,  or  he  did  not  consider, — as,  for  his  good, 
he  might  have  done, — that  mediocrity  is  often  more 
immediately  and  largely  prosperous  than  genius  is, 
because,  hy  the  multitude,  it  is  more  easily  under- 
stood. In  liis  professional  life  he  continually 
observed  the  proceedings  of   other   actors,   and   he 


328  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

was  troubled  by  those  proceedings  and  irritated 
by  the  pubhc  recognition  accorded  to  them.  He 
also  allowed  himself  to  be  annoyed  by  the  frivolous 
prattle  of  newspapers.  He  lacked  entire  self- 
possession.  That  was  a  weakness  of  his  character, 
from  which,  and  from  latent  disease,  ensued  the 
aberrations  of  his  conduct,  his  irritability,  his  jeal- 
ousies, his  flurries  of  anger,  his  petulant  outbreaks 
of  speech,  and  his  morbid  fancies  as  to  the  defection 
of  friends  and  the  hostility  of  the  world.  If  only 
he  could  have  ceased  to  worry  about  the  doings  and 
sayings  of  others,  he  would  have  escaped  much  suf- 
fering. Often,  in  my  intimate  observance  of  him, 
I  had  reason  to  regret, — and  more  than  once  I  told 
him  so, — that  he  would  not,  or  could  not,  feel  and 
exempHfy  the  truth  of  the  thought  contained  in 
Arnold's  hues: 

And  with  joy  the  stars  perform  their  shining, 
And  the  sea  its  long,  moon-silver'd  roll; 

For  self-poised  they  live,  nor  pine  with  noting 
All  the  fever  of  some  differing  soul. 

The  propensity  to  fret  because  artistic  competitors 
are  popular  has  shown  itself  in  the  hves  of  many 
actors.  Garrick  seems  to  have  been  acutely  sensi- 
tive on  that  point.  Cooke,  speaking  of  Kemble, 
signified  that  he  would  "make  Black  Jack  tremble 


VARIOUS    OPINIONS  329 

in  his  boots!"  Macready  loved  "no  brother  near 
the  throne."  When  Charles  Kean  lost  a  jewel, 
which  had  been  given  to  him  by  Queen  Victoria, 
Douglas  Jerrold  significantly  remarked  that  he 
would  find  it  "sticking  in  Macready's  crop."  The 
jealous  animosity  of  Edwin  Forrest  toward  Ma- 
cready is  well  remembered.  Aside  from  professional 
rivalry, — or,  perhaps,  because  of  it,  and  of  con- 
sequent inability  to  see  clearly  and  judge  fairly, — 
actors  seldom  form  judicious  views  of  each  other. 
E.  L.  Davenport,  a  giant  in  his  day,  thought  that 
Edwin  Booth  was  a  "divine",  reader  of  Hamlet, 
but  not  a  great  actor.  Edwin  Booth  did  not  very 
highly  esteem  Jefferson's  selection  of  Rip  Van 
Winkle, — so  he  said  to  me;  and  of  John  S. 
Clarke,  his  brother-in-law,  whom  he  greatly  liked, 
and  who  was  a  superb  eccentric  comedian,  he  said: 
"Clarke  is  exceedingly  amusing  in  private  life,  but, 
to  me,  not  at  all  so  on  the  stage."  Henry  Irving, 
who  admired  Jefferson  more  than  he  did  any  other 
American  actor,  declared  Jefferson's  embodiment  of 
Acres  to  be  his  best  performance,  and  superior  to 
that  of  Rip  Van  Winkle, — wliich  certainly  it  was 
not,  for  the  reason  that  Rip  had  imagination  and 
poetry  in  it,  while  Acres  was  made  up  exclusively  of 
character  and  humor;  and,  although  the  felicity  of 
dramatic  expression  was  superb  in  Acres,  it  was 


330  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

transcended  by  that  of  Bip.  Lester  Wallack,  next 
to  Charles  Mathews,  the  best  light  comedian  of  the 
period  immediately  succeeding  that  of  Charles  Kem- 
ble  and  James  E.  Murdoch,  could  not  perceive  excep- 
tional merit  in  the  acting  of  Jefferson,  for  in  con- 
versation with  me  he  lightly  dismissed  him  as  a  man 
with  a  "funny  little  squeaky  voice."  Edwin  Booth 
said  to  me  that  Irving's  impersonation  of  Louis  the 
Eleventh  was  decidedly  inferior  to  the  performance  of 
the  same  part  by  Charles  Kean, — an  actor  of  remark- 
able abihty,  but  one  who,  whether  in  Louis  or  in  any 
other  character,  and  I  saw  him  in  that  and  in 
many,  neither  rose  to  the  intellectual  height  of 
Irving  nor  rivalled  him  in  the  faculty  of  dramatic 
expression;  and  of  Irving's  performance  of  Mathias, 
in  "The  Bells,"  which  Booth  saw  before  I  did,  the 
most  he  could  tell  me  was  that  it  had  "a  lot  of  red 
silk  pocket-handkercliief  in  it."  Irving,  much  as  he 
esteemed  Edwin  Booth  as  a  man,  considered  him  to 
be  more  an  elocutionist  than  an  actor, — meaning  an 
impersonator:  "he  is  a  magnificent  reader,"  said 
Irving.  Jefferson,  who  seldom  allowed  himself  to 
be  disturbed  by  the  renown  of  rival  actors,  neverthe- 
less thought  and  said  that  he  could  have  excelled 
Irving  in  the  part  of  Doctor  Primrose,  in  Wills's 
lovely  play  of  "Olivia,"  whereas,  in  fact,  he  could 
not    have    approached    him,    for    in    that    part,    as 


Courtesy  of  Mr.  Vivinii  Hunirtt 

RICHARD  MANSFIELD  IN  1906 


ACTORS    AS    CRITICS  331 

in  Mathias,  Mephistoplieles,  Lesurques,  Dubosc, 
Becket,  and  Charles  the  First,  Irving  was  unique 
and  perfect.  But  Jefferson,  whose  knowledge  of  the 
art  of  acting  was  comprehensive,  minute,  and 
extraordinary,  sometimes  spoke  from  impulse  rather 
than  from  judgment.  "All  Irving's  performances," 
he  once  said,  "are  exactly  alike,  and  show  exactly 
the  same  man;"  and  then,  almost  immediately,  he 
added,  referring  to  Irving's  acting  in  "The  Lyons 
Mail,"  "not  even  a  child  could  possibly  mistake  the 
one  man,  Dubosc,  for  the  other,  Lesurques"!  Still 
another  of  his  pronouncements  was  that  the  per- 
formance of  Mephistopheles  by  Edouard  de  Reszke, 
in  the  opera  of  "Faust,"  was  vastly  better  than 
that  of  Irving,  in  Wills's  drama.  De  Reszke, 
in  fact,  presented  Mephistopheles  as  a  fat,  rubi- 
cund, jovial  roisterer,  whereas  Irving  acted  Iiim  as 
a  Spirit,  the  incarnation  of  intellectual  pride, 
scorn,  and  grimly  humorous  denial  and  mockery, 
sardonic  and  terrible.  Mansfield's  views  of  other 
actors  were  equally  capricious.  It  would  be  a  sad 
day  for  the  players  if  their  performances  were  to 
be  criticised  in  the  press  by  their  brethren  of  the 
dramatic  profession. 

Mansfield  has  been  described,  by  various  per- 
formers vAth  whom,  professionally,  he  came  into 
contact,  sometimes  as  affable  and  kind,  sometimes 


332  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

as  unreasonable,  tyrannical,  and  offensive.  That 
testimony,  both  ways,  is  authentic.  He  could  be, 
and  often  he  was,  genial,  sympathetic,  considerate, 
and  benign.  He  also  could  be,  and  sometimes  he 
was,  ungracious,  sarcastic,  bitter,  and  rude.  The 
son  of  Erminia  Rudersdorff  could  hardly  have  been 
anything  but  capricious;  and  it  should  also  be 
remembered  that  Mansfield,  although  a  man  of 
robust  physique,  was  not  in  perfect  health,  that  he 
often  suffered  from  distressing  nervous  illness,  that 
much  of  his  life  was  passed  under  an  exceptionally 
severe  strain  of  anxiety  and  responsibility,  and  that 
his  patience  was  often  severely  tried  by  ingratitude, 
injustice,  malice,  and  misrepresentation.  In  ill- 
tempered  moods  he  was  injudicious,  and  the  vagaries 
of  his  conduct  and  speech  furnished  weapons  with 
which  resentment  or  detraction  could,  and  did,  strike. 
But  there  was  a  charming  side  to  his  character. 
He  was  an  affectionate  friend,  a  delightful  com- 
panion, and  in  the  abodes  of  want  and  sorrow  he 
was  the  soul  of  generosity  and  cheer. 

A  man  of  complex  and  original  character  and 
genius  is  seldom  understood  and  deeply  appreciated 
by  many  persons,  even  though  he  be  admired  and 
followed.  Originality  perplexes  conventional  percep- 
tion and  thus  sometimes  causes  antagonism.  Genius 
is  often  eccentric  and  its  eccentricity  often  mani- 


CONFLICT  333 

fests  itself  in  capricious  conduct.  Mansfield,  under 
the  most  favorable  circumstances,  might  have  proved 
a  little  trying  to  the  average  mind:  under  adverse 
circumstances  he  necessarily  became  a  disturbing 
influence.  His  bitter  experience  in  youth,  when  he 
was  almost  destitute  and  was  struggling  for  a  mere 
subsistence,  had  made  him  resentful  and  combative, 
and  when,  after  a  long  period  of  toil,  vicissitude, 
hope  deferred,  and  restless  endurance,  he  became, 
to  some  extent,  a  dictator  of  fortune,  his  strong 
propensity  to  self-assertion,  his  arbitrary  insist- 
ence on  command  and  conquest,  was  naturally  the 
cause  of  opposition  and  strife.  Along  almost  the 
whole  line  of  his  career  there  was  conflict.  Attacks 
were  frequent  and  so  were  rejoinders.  Sarcasms 
about  actors,  newspapers,  writers,  and  audiences  fell 
from  his  hps  and  ebullitions  of  banter  came  from 
his  pen.  Press  wrangles  and  lawsuits  attended  him. 
But,  whatever  the  tumult,  or  whatever  might  be 
the  cause  of  it,  he  was  alwaj^^s  interesting.  His 
activity  was  incessant.  His  enterprise, — neither 
timid  before  rivalry  nor  hesitant  before  adventure, 
eager  for  the  production  of  new  plays  and  expedi- 
tious in  travel, — was  courageous  even  to  audacity. 
His  ambition  was  never  satisfied.  No  sooner  had 
he  accomplished  one  task  than  his  resolute  will 
enjoined  another.     "Life  is  too  short  to  waste,"  he 


834.  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

said  to  me;  "I  must  move  onward  and  upward." 
He  wrought  in  divers  fields.  As  a  composer  of 
music  he  produced  melodies  as  tenderly  expressive 
as  some  of  the  sweetest  that  are  wedded  to  the 
incomparable  songs  of  Moore.  As  a  writer,  although 
in  the  literary  realm  his  pretensions  were  very 
modest,  he  used  a  piquant  style  with  force  and 
grace,  depicting  character  in  the  tints  of  nature  and 
evincing  decided  felicity  of  dramatic  expression: 
much  that  is  terse,  pointed,  and  significant,  in  vari- 
ous plays  with  which  his  name  is  publicly  asso- 
ciated only  as  that  of  a  player,  in  fact  proceeded 
from  his  pen.  As  a  mimic  he  was  extraordinary. 
Had  he  chosen  to  do  so  he  could  have  had  a  con- 
spicuous career  as  a  singer.  As  an  actor,  passing 
gracefully  and  ably  from  musical  farce  to  serio- 
comic drama  and  from  romance  to  tragedy,  he 
displayed  artistic  faculties  and  resources  seldom 
exemplified  in  all  the  long  history  of  the  dramatic 
art.  Much  though  he  did,  there  was  more  that  he 
might  have  done.  His  jovial  humor  was  so  potent, 
so  various,  and  so  rich  that  if  he  had  assumed  the 
part  of  Falstaff,  as  I  often  earnestly  urged  him  to 
do,  he  would,  I  believe,  have  surpassed  all  per- 
sonations of  it  that  the  stage  has  exhibited  in  our 
time.  But,  qualifications  and  conjectures  set  aside, 
Mansfield  was  a  great  actor,  he  had  a  great  career. 


INITIATIVE  335 

and  the  community  is  indebted  to  liim  for  perma- 
nent intellectual  benefit. 

Throughout  that  career  he  conspicuously  dis- 
played the  faculty  of  initiative,  the  faculty  of  choos- 
ing new  subjects  and  making  new  appKcations  of 
old  ideas.  He  reverted  to  Samuel  Warren's  once 
famous  novel  of  "Ten  Thousand  a  Year,"  and  he 
made  Titmouse  a  practical  stage  figure.  He  recog- 
nized George  Bernard  Shaw  as  a  dramatic  writer, 
producing  the  best  plays  that  have  been  made  by 
that  erratic,  sophistical,  mischievous  satirist, — "Arms 
and  the  Man"  and  "The  Devil's  Disciple."  He 
prompted  the  making  of  a  play  on  that  gossamer, 
romantic  novel,  "The  First  VioUn."  He  caused  a 
drama  to  be  made  on  the  theme  of  Stevenson's  story 
of  dual  hfe,  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  and  he  was 
the  first  to  put  those  contrasted  characters  on  the 
stage.  He  transformed  "Prince  Karl"  from  a  poor 
melodrama  into  an  excellent  farce,  and,  by  a  per- 
formance of  exquisite  charm,  he  made  that  trifle  a 
source  of  much  innocent  pleasure.  He  suggested 
and  inspired  a  drama  on  the  subject  of  the  last  days 
of  the  Roman  emperor  Nero.  He  imparted  a  fas- 
cinating bodily  form  to  the  fanciful,  romantic  con- 
ception of  Beaucaire.  He  vitalized,  in  English,  the 
quaint  half -merry,  half -sad  German  play  of  "Alt 
Heidelberg."     He  reanimated  for  stage  exhibition 


336  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

the  imperial  image  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  He 
succeeded  in  winning  considerable  favor  for  "The 
Scarlet  Letter,"  a  story  that  had  not  before  been 
made  theatrically  effective.  He  added  to  the  stage 
pantheon  the  grim  figure  and  the  tremendous 
character  of  the  Russian  despot,  Ivan,  the  Ter- 
rible. He  revived  Moliere's  "Misanthrope,"  in 
English, — setting  an  example  that,  eventually,  per- 
haps, will  enrich  the  English-speaking  stage  with 
a  series  of  the  classics  of  the  hterature  of  France. 
He  reanimated  Schiller's  "Don  Carlos,"  a  respected 
tragedy,  long  dead  to  the  theatre;  and,  in  his 
elaborate  productions  of  "Richard  III.,"  "The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,"  "Henry  V.,"  and  "JuHus  Caesar," 
he  reminded  a  younger  generation  that  artistic 
results  can  be  obtained  from  conscientious  present- 
ment of  the  massive  works  of  Shakespeare.  One  of 
his  practical  and  valuable  services  to  the  stage  and 
society  was  the  restoration  of  the  custom  of  having 
a  varied  repertory,  instead  of  depending  upon  one 
or  two  parts.  That  custom  he  adopted,  enforced, 
and  justified,  at  a  time  when  other  dominant 
theatrical  managers  were  opposed  to  it  and  allied 
against  it.  Thus  his  career,  while  it  was  one  of 
prodigious  labor  and  of  much  trial  and  vicissitude, 
was  one  also  of  varied  enterprise,  striking  novelty, 
and  intrepid  and  brilliant  exploit.     Sometimes,  how- 


REFUGE    OF   ART  337 

ever,  his  courage  faltered  and  his  spirit  drooped. 
Once  he  announced  his  intention  to  retire  from  the 
stage  at  the  end  of  three  years;  but  he  did  not 
Hve  to  fulfil  that  intention,  and,  in  any  event,  he, 
probably,  vrould  not  have  fulfilled  it.  The  workers, 
the  persons, — always  few, — who  do  the  vitally  im- 
portant work  of  the  world,  often  feel  that  their  task 
has  been  done  and  that  their  day  is  over,  and  often 
they  long  for  release.  It  was  so  with  the  great 
novelist  Thackeray,  who  spoke  of  his  work  as 
finished,  even  before  he  had  written  the  superb  novel 
of  "The  Newcomes."  It  was  so  with  the  great 
actress  Charlotte  Cushman,  who  several  times  took 
leave  of  the  stage,  and  as  often  returned  to  it. 
Mansfield's  originality  of  mind  and  poetry  of  tem- 
perament, combined  with  his  affluent,  restless  vitality, 
would  always  have  held  him  in  the  realm  of  art.  No 
other  realm,  indeed,  exists  in  which  there  is  refuge 
for  a  noble  soul  and  a  sensitive  heart.  In  all  other 
realms  there  is  the  continual  tumult  of  the  raving 
world,  and  even  in  the  refuge  of  art  the  voice  of 
contention  and  detraction  can,  and  frequently  does, 
make  itself  heard.  Still,  come  what  may,  there  is  no 
other  haven;  and,  as  said  by  one  of  the  wisest  of 
poets : 

He  only  lives  with  the  world's  life. 
Who  hath  renounced  his  own. 


338  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

A  man  of  positive  character  usually  inspires 
enmity,  and  a  successful  man,  no  matter  what  his 
vocation,  awakens  envy  and  malice.  Richard  Mans- 
field was  both  positive  and  successful,  and  therefore 
detraction  often  snarled  at  liis  heels.  Once,  when  he 
was  recovering  from  a  dangerous,  nearly  fatal  attack 
of  typhoid  fever,  he  received  an  anonymous  letter, 
coarsely  and  grossly  expressive  of  its  writer's  ani- 
mosity and  of  a  hvely  regret  that  the  actor  had 
not  died.  There  is,  unhappily,  a  depraved  order  of 
mind,  capable  of  atrocity  like  that, — serving  to  show 
how  contemptible  it  is  possible  for  human  nature  to 
be,  and  what  essential  need  there  is  of  a  charitable 
and  humorous  view  of  Hfe.  Lord  Tennyson,  in  liis 
memoir  of  his  father,  mentions  that,  during  a  period 
of  forty-two  years,  the  great  poet,  whenever  he  pub- 
lished a  new  poem,  received  an  anonymous  letter, 
always  in  the  same  hand,  filled  with  abuse  of  his 
poetry.  In  "The  School  for  Scandal"  bluff  Sir 
Oliver  Surface  wisely  and  tersely  declares  that  the 
man  who  has  no  enemies  is  the  man  who  has  bowed 
as  low  to  knaves  and  fools  as  to  honest  dignity  of 
genius  and  virtue.  Mansfield  had  enemies,  some  of 
whom  he  gained  by  reason  of  his  intellectual  supe- 
riority, some  of  whom  he  gained  by  his  undis- 
guised, natural,  and  proper  contempt,  and  some  of 
whom   he   gained   because    of   Ms    occasional   arro- 


DETRACTION  339 

gance.  Accordingly  he  was,  from  time  to  time, 
harshly  censured,  in  print,  and  also  he  was  sedu- 
lously, foolishly,  unjustly,  and  sometimes  brutally 
slandered.  It  is  a  shocking  but  indisputable  fact 
that  the  multitude  is  ever  more  ready  to  believe  evil 
than  good  of  any  distinguished  person,  and  it  is 
true,  as  said  by  the  poet  Alexander  Smith,  that 

The  stain  of  mire 
Sits    more   conspicuous    on   the   captain's   mail 
Than  on  the  scarred  and  dinted  man-at-arms. 

Many  false,  idle,  injurious  tales  about  Mansfield 
were  circulated  in  newspapers,  by  the  contemptible 
purveyors  of  what  Lord  Beaconsfield  aptly  desig- 
nated "the  hare-brained  chatter  of  irresponsible 
frivolity,"  and  they  were  often  and  widely  credited. 
Nervous  and  impetuous  Mansfield  was,  and  at  times 
impolitic  and  free  of  speech,  loosing,  it  might  be,  the 
shafts  of  righteous  indignation,  or  it  might  be  the 
barbs  of  bitter  sarcasm.  He  was  hostile  to  injustice 
and  to  "the  oppressor's  wrong,"  for  he  had  known 
them  and  suffered  under  the  blight  of  them,  and 
he  was  intolerant  of  dulness  and  convention.  The 
poet  Heine  declared  that  even  the  clouds,  when  they 
happen  to  drift  over  the  city  of  Hamburg,  the 
moment  they  look  down  at  its  soulless,  deadly  regu- 
larity of  huckstering  commonplace  and  routine, 
make  haste  to  fly  from  it.    Byron  noticed  that  "quiet 


340  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

to  quick  bosoms  is  a  hell."  I  knew  Richard  Mans- 
field for  about  a  quarter  of  a  century;  I  saw  him 
in  many  moods  and  under  many  and  various  circum- 
stances; I  became  acquainted,  at  first  hand,  equally 
with  his  faults  and  his  merits;  and  I  desire  earnestly 
to  testify,  without  intending  to  gloss  his  infirmities, 
that  he  was,  intrinsically,  a  good  man.  In  fight- 
ing,— sometimes  through  poverty  and  sickness, — the 
hard  fight  that  genius  always  has  to  wage  against 
a  purse-proud  society,  entrenched  within  its  ram- 
parts of  wealth  and  privilege,  he  developed  a  sporadic 
tendency  to  harsh,  imperious  manners.  Further- 
more, when  dubious  as  to  recognition  of  his  achieve- 
ment and  well-earned  rank,  he  sometimes  became 
distrustful  of  everybody.  Ajaoo,  in  the  pathetic 
tragedy  that  Sophocles  wrote  about  him,  sagely 
remarks  that  few  persons  reach  the  port  of  friend- 
ship and  therein  find  rest.  At  all  times  Mans- 
field was  of  a  mercurial  temper,  and  in  some  moods 
he  fell  into  deep  dejection,  undervalued  his  powers 
and  acliievements,  firmly  persuaded  himself  that  he 
had  done  no  sort  of  justice  to  liis  profession  or 
his  opportunity,  and  lapsed  into  a  lethargy  of 
morose  resentment  of  all  praise  and  a  bitter  unbe- 
lief in  all  human  affection.  But  time  and  experience 
taught  him  the  need  of  patience  and  self-dependence, 
and  his  later  living  and  acting  evinced  a  decided 


THE    RIGHT    ROAD  341 

advancement  in  the  repose  of  conscious  power. 
Victory  had  been  gained.  The  direction  in  which, 
at  the  last,  he  was  moving,  as  to  intellectual  and 
spiritual  development,  was  the  right  one.  He 
longed,  and  often  asked,  for  sweet  and  gentle  plays. 
He  wished  to  illustrate  subjects  that  are  beautiful; 
to  be  the  interpreter  of  that  dramatic  poetry  which 
allures  by  its  enticing  glamour;  to  wield  the  assured 
power  that  is  decisively  effective  because  unsolicitous 
of  effect;  and,  with  the  intuitive  perception  that 
sees  human  life  as  a  whole,  to  invest  massive  and 
splendid  ideals  with  the  magic  of  careless  grace. 

To  sordid,  commonplace  minds  it  is  a  satisfactory 
behef  that  the  theatre  is  merely  a  shop,  and  that  the 
art  of  acting  is  merely  a  means  for  the  pursuit  of 
gain.  Such  minds  are  numerous,  and  in  the  business 
world  they  are  usually  predominant;  and,  under  the 
perverting  control  of  such  minds,  the  stage  has 
known  periods  of  sad  degradation.  At  intervals, 
however,  strong  spirits  have  arisen  in  the  drama,  to 
vindicate  its  intrinsic  intellectual  worth  and  moral 
potentiality,  to  assert  its  educational  drift,  and  to 
exalt  and  extend  its  social  influence.  A  noble  per- 
sonal force,  in  fact,  sometimes  shining  forth  in  great 
affluence  and  splendor,  and  never  quite  extinct,  has 
been  the  salvation  of  the  stage,  which,  but  for  this 
fortunate  ordainment,  would  long  since  have  sunk 


342  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

to  ignominious  frivolity.  The  intelligent  saving 
force,  which  believes  in  art  and  is  devoted  to  its 
cause,  has  kept  the  stage  alive,  in  honor  and  pros- 
perity, and  upon  that  force  its  dependence  must 
rest.  The  stalwart  presence  of  Richard  Mansfield 
in  the  American  Theatre,  therefore,  was  auspicious 
in  a  high  degree.  He  was  a  leader;  he  was  a  bul- 
wark against  the  rampant  phalanx  of  theatrical 
button-makers,  and  the  loss  of  him  will  be  long  felt 
and  deeply  mourned. 


Information  of  the  death  of  my  old  friend  reached 
me  at  Mentone,  in  Southern  California,  and  brought 
with  it  a  solemn  sense  not  only  of  personal  bereave- 
ment but  of  loss  to  the  world.  The  disappearance 
of  an  illustrious  figure — the  extinction  of  splendid 
abilities,  and  the  termination  of  brilliant  accom- 
plishments— imparts  an  inexpressible  feeling  of  deso- 
lation. Mansfield  had  been  my  companion  in  many 
scenes  of  busy  Hfe,  and  in  that  lovely  solitude  among 
the  mountains.  He  would  never  come  again.  It 
was  then  that  I  wrote  the  Elegy  which  here 
follows, — speaking  from  the  heart,  and  casting 
on  his  grave  the  white  rose  of  honor  and  loving 
remembrance. 


Photoijrdph  hij  Marcenu,  .Vrir   Yovk 

RICHARD  MANSFIELD 
From  His  Last  Photograph 


ELEGY    FOR    MANSFIELD. 

TTRITTBN   AT  MENTONE,   CALIFORNIA,    SEPTEMBER  8,    1907. 

For    me    terrestrial    mountains    rise; 

For    thee    celestial    rivers    run; 
My   steps    are   'neath   familiar   skies, 

But  thine  in   realms   beyond  the   sun. 

This   peaceful   scene,   that    does   not   change, 
This  smiling  vale,  so  fair  to  see, 

Those   lonely   plains,   that  mountain   range, 
So   glorious, — all  were  known  to   thee. 

For  many   a   year,   in   shade   or   shine, 
When  life   was   gay,   when   life   was  drear. 

Thy    friendly   hand   was    clasped   in    mine. 
Thy   form    was   oft   beside   me    here. 

Now,   though   I   sought   through   ev'ry   land, 
I   should   not    feel,   in    any    place. 

The    pressure    of    that    loving    hand, 

Nor   hear   thy   voice,   nor   see    thy   face. 

So  friendship  fades,  so  love   departs. 
So    living    joy    becomes    a    name 

Shrin'd    in    the    depth    of   breaking    hearts, — 
And  yet  the  world  remains  the  same. 

The   roses   bloom,   the  fields   are   green, 

The   branches   wave,   the   streamlets   flow, — 

For    Nature,    ruffled    or    serene. 
Is   deaf  and  blind  to  human   woe. 

Thy   mind   to   beauty   was    subdued, 

In    Beauty's    service    thou    wert    blest, — 

Stern   warrior   in     the   bitter   feud 
That  would  not   let   thy   spirit   rest: 
343 


344  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

The  feud  that  wakes   angelic   rage, 
The   strife   in   which   so   many   tire, 

The  deadly  war  that  Art  must  wage 
With  mean   intent  and  low  desire. 

Sleep  sweetly,   noble  heart  and  true! 

The  tempest  of  thy  life  is  o'er; 
Nor  baffled  hope,  nor  pang  of  rue, 

Nor  any  grief  can  wound  thee  more! 

Sleep   sweetly,    in    that    hallow'd    dell. 
Far  off,  beside   the   solemn   sea, 

Where   tears    and   prayers   will,    constant,    tell, 
The  love  that  lives  to   mourn   for   thee. 

There  wild  flowers,  emblems  of   thy   soul. 
Around   thy   tomb  will  bud   and   blow. 

While    Ocean's    melancholy    roll 

Will   chaunt   thy   requiem,   soft   and   low. 

There  oft  the  pilgrim's  musing  gaze 
Will  linger  on  the  votive  stone 

That  mutely   tells  to  future  days 

Thy  power  and  charm,  forever  flown. 

And   there,   in   golden   time   to    come, 
When    all   the   clamor  of   our  day 

Has  sunk  to  silence,  and  the  hum 
Of  vain  detraction  died  away, 

Fame's  Angel,  hov'ring  o'er  thy  rest, 
His    amaranthine   bough  will   wave. 

Proclaiming —  Here  lies  Glory's  guest, 
Here  Genius   sleeps  in   Mansfield's   grave! 


MANSFIELD'S    WRITINGS. 

Mansfield  did  not  wish  to  do  anything  that  he 
could  not  do  more  than  well.  He  distrusted  his  fac- 
ulties as  a  writer,  and  he  did  not  sedulously  cultivate 
them.  He  knew  that  writing  is  a  fine  art,  and 
whenever  he  essayed  to  practice  it  he  did  so  in  a 
spirit  equally  modest  and  sincere.  The  volume  of 
his  writings  is  considerable,  and  while  all  that  he 
wrote  is  interesting  some  of  it  is  exceptionally  fine. 
His  tragedy  of  "Don  Juan"  is,  distinctly,  a  valu- 
able addition  to  dramatic  literature.  He  did  much 
literary  labor  that  can  only  be  indicated, — formu- 
lating ideas  for  plays,  making  rough  drafts  of  them, 
improvising  dialogue,  and  revising  the  work  of 
other  hands.  It  is  not  possible  to  designate  pre- 
cisely all  that  he  contributed  to  various  plays  that 
he  produced,  but  in  the  course  of  this  memoir  that 
subject  has  received  due  consideration.  The  story 
told  in  the  farce  of  "Prince  Karl,"  is  said  to  have 
been  suggested  by  certain  veritable  occurrences  in 
the  life  of  a  German  nobleman.  Mansfield's  revision 
of  that  play  was  particularly  adroit  and  felicitous. 
"Beau  Brummell"  owes  almost  everything  to  him. 

345 


346  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

He  wrote  "Monsieur."  His  pen  greatly  improved 
"Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde,"  "Nero,"  "The  Scarlet 
Letter,"  and  "Ten  Thousand  a  Year."  It  is  inter- 
esting to  remember  that,  many  years  ago,  that 
admirable  comedian,  Edward  A.  Sothern,  the  prince 
of  whimsicality,  wished  to  have  a  play  written  on 
the  subject  of  "Ten  Thousand  a  Year,"  and  to 
act  Oily  Gammon.  Mansfield,  though  he  called  it 
"rubbish,"  never  quite  relinquished  the  belief  that 
a  really  fine  play  might  be  built  from  the  story,  and 
perhaps  he  could  have  substantiated  the  belief  if 
he  had  chosen  to  devote  himself  to  the  necessary  hard 
work.  His  faculty  of  invention  and  his  facility 
in  writing  dialogue  were  alike  remarkable,  as  shown 
in  his  clever  satirical  monologue  "As  You  Find  It" 
(1904),  one  sentence  of  which  bitterly  enough 
expresses  the  conviction  that  his  experience  had 
taught  him:  "You  can  have  anything  you  want 
in  this  world,  if  you'll  pay  the  price  for  it."  (That 
title,  "As  You  Find  It,"  was  used  by  Charles  Boyle, 
Earl  of  Orrery,  1676-1731,  for  a  comedy  of  his, 
published  in  1703,  telling  the  story  of  an  amatory 
intrigue.)  Mention  should  be  made  that  the  capital 
dance  music,  played  in  an  episode  of  frolic,  at  an 
Inn,  in  the  tragedy  of  "Don  Juan,"  was  composed 
by  Mansfield,  and  also  that  he  wrote  the  exquisite 
melody  that  is  sung  by  Don  Juan,  when  serenading 


HIS    VERSE  347 

Donna  Julia,  in  that  play,  a  melody  that  the  grim 
Duke,  who  has  just  plotted  to  kill  him,  is  obliged 
to  hear.  The  best  of  Mansfield's  lyrical  efforts  is 
this  celebration  of  a  British  military  exploit  in 
Africa,  in  the  Boer  War: 

THE    CHARGE    OF    DARGAI    GAP. 

Bulldogs,  hark!     Did  your  courage   fail? 
Bulldogs,   hark!     Did  your  glory   pale? 
What    of   the   slander   that    says  "Decayed!" 
"Gone   to   the   dogs    since   the   Light    Brigade!" 
For  the  blood  and  bone  that  humbled  Nap, 
'Twas   there   again,   boys,   in   Dargai    Gap! 
Did   you   hear   the   swish  of   the   flying   shot? 
The  roll  of  the  drum  and  the  rattle  pot  ? 
The   music  that   rose   clear   o'er   that   yell 
And  thrilled  through  the  ranks  and  stirred  up  hell! 
Come,  Highland  laddie,  head  up,  step  forth! 
A  crown  of  glory!     "Cock  o'   the  North!" 
You  "Cock  o'  the  North,"  aye,  pipe  away ! 
With  both  stumps  gone,  and  you  won  the  day! 
You  may  lean  your  back  against  comrades  now. 
They'll  moisten  your  lips  and  they'll  kiss  your  brow. 
For  they   fought  like  men,  and  a  man  may  weep 
When   he  lays  a   man  to  his   last  long  sleep. 
Bulldogs  who  sleep  on  the  Dargai  Ridge, 
Fall   in !     Quick,  march !   and   over  the  bridge ! 
The   piper's   ahead,   and   the   same   old   air. 
To  pipe  you  to  heaven   and   vet'rans   there ! 
And  you'll   tell   the  bullies   who   humbled  Nap 
The  glorious  story   of  Dargai   Gap. 


348  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

The  following  is  a  list,  except  as  to  Music,  thought 
to  be  complete,  of  the  published  writings  with  which 
his  name  is  associated: 

As  You  Find  It:  A  Monologue.  First  called  As  You  Don't 
Like  It. 

Beau  Brummell:  Play,  in  Four  Acts:  By  dictation  to  the 
late  William  Clyde   Fitch. 

Blown  Away:  A  Nonsense  Book. 

Charge  at  Dargai  Gap,  The:  Poem. 

Concerning  Acting:  Article;  "The  North  American  Review." 

Don  Juan:  Tragedy,  in  Five  Acts. 

Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde:  Play,  Revised  and  Altered,  from 
play  by  Thomas  Russell  Sullivan. 

Eagle's  Song,  The:  Poem. 

First  Violin,  The:  Play,  in  Four  Acts,  made  in  collaboration, 
imder  name  of  Meridan  Phelps,  with  J.  I.  C.  Clarke,  on 
basis  of  Jessie  Fothergill's  novel. 

King  Henry  V.,  Stage  Version,  with  an  Introduction. 

King  Richard   III.,   Stage   Version,   with   an   Introduction. 

Man  and  the  Actor:  Article;  "Atlantic  Monthly." 

Monsieur:  Play,  in  Four  Acts. 

My  Audiences  and  Myself:  Article;  "Collier's  Weekly." 

Nero:  Tragedy,  in  Five  Acts,  Revised  and  Altered,  from 
play  by  Thomas  Russell  Sullivan. 

One  Evening:  A  Collection  of  Songs:  Music  by  Mansfield; 
also,    in   several   instances,   the   words. 

Plain  Talk  on  the  Drama,  A:  Article;  "North  American 
Review." 

Prince  Karl:  Farce,  in  Four  Acts:  Revised  and  Altered, 
from  an  original  by  A.  C.  Gunter. 

Scarlet  Letter,  The:  Drama,  in  Five  Acts:  Altered  from  play 
by   Joseph    Hatton,   based   on   Hawthorne's    novel. 

Story  of  a  Production,  The:  Article;  "Harper's  Weekly." 

Sketches  Out  of  the  Life  of  a  Great  Singer:   (His  Mother). 

Talking  v.  Acting:  An  Address. 


ERMINIA    RUDERSDORFF. 

Erminia  Rudersdorff,  the  mother  of  Richard 
Mansfield,  was  born  at  Ivanowsky,  in  the  Ukraine, 
Russia,  December  12,  1822.  Her  father,  Joseph 
Rudersdorff,  was  a  vioHnist,  of  high  repute.  She 
studied  music,  in  Paris,  under  the  tuition  of  Bor- 
dogni,  and  in  Milan,  under  that  of  De  JNIicheront. 
Her  first  professional  appearance  was  made  in  1840, 
at  Leipsic.  She  had  the  greater  part  of  her  career 
in  Europe,  and  for  many  years  she  resided  in  Lon- 
don, where  her  first  appearance  was  made  in  1854! 
(the  year  of  Richard  Mansfield's  birth),  at  Drury 
Lane,  in  German  opera.  In  1872  she  was  engaged, 
by  Patrick  Sarsfield  Gilmore,  to  sing,  in  "The 
World's  Peace  Jubilee,"  in  Boston.  She  sailed  from 
England,  June  1,  aboard  the  Java,  and,  on  reach- 
ing Boston,  lodged  in  the  old  Tremont  House.  On 
the  opening  day  of  the  Jubilee  she  sang  "Inflam- 
matus,"  from  Rossini's  "Stabat  Mater."  At  one 
of  the  ensuing  concerts  she  sang  a  song  called 
"Homage  to  Columbia,"  which  was  designated  on 
the  programme  as  follows:  "Melody  composed,  the 
Words    written,    and    sung    by    Madame    Erminia 

849 


350  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

Rudersdorff,  accompanied  by  the  Band  of  the 
Grenadier  Guards,  conducted  by  Mr.  Dan  God- 
frey." At  another  concert  she  sang  "Let  the  Bright 
Seraphim,"  from  "Samson,"  "with  trumpet  obhgato 
by  Mr.  M.  Arbuckle."  She  also  sang  Alberto 
Randegger's  scena  called  "Medea."  Her  first 
appearance  in  Opera,  in  America,  was  made  on 
October  30,  1873,  at  the  Boston  Theatre,  as  Leonora^ 
in  "II  Trovatore."  A  Boston  newspaper  of  that 
period  mentions  a  concert,  given  at  the  Town  Hall 
in  Swampscott,  Mass.,  for  a  Benefit,  on  which  occa- 
sion "Mme.  Rudersdorff,  who  kindly  consented  to 
sing,  gave  two  selections,"  and,  it  adds: 

A  young  gentleman  who  was  mentioned  in  the  programme  as 
"Mr.  R.  M."  sang  a  German  song  and  "The  Young  Moun- 
taineer," by  Randegger.  At  the  end  of  the  concert  this  same 
young  gentleman  informed  the  audience,  with  much  apparent 
delight,  that  Miss  Gregory  (the  beneficiary)  was  too  indis- 
posed to  sing,  and  instead  was  glad  to  say  that  he  was  going 
to  sing  for  her,  and,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  everybody, 
sang,  in  a  high  falsetto,  "Oh,  Dear,  What  Can  the  Matter 
Be?"  after  the  style  of  Mme.  Liebhart,  and  for  an  encore,  as 
he  had  made  quite  a  hit,  rendered  the  "Carnival  of  Venice," 
a  la  Carlotta  Patti. 

That  youth  was  Richard  Mansfield.  The  songs 
of  Randegger,  one  of  his  mother's  intimate  friends, 
were  especially  prized  by  Mme.  Rudersdorff,  and 
persons  who  remember  her  singing  of  them  testify 


4i?irtT///. 


I'UMi 


MMPl    ERMIXIA    MANSFIELD    UUDERSDORFF 


THE    BERLIN    HOME  351 

that  it  was  sympathetic  and  beautiful.  She  taught 
her  son  to  sing  them,  and  at  all  times  ^lansfield's 
singing  of  any  simple  ballad  would  touch  the  heart. 
Mme.  Rudersdorff  was  herself  a  composer  of  music: 
her  setting  of  Longfellow's  poem  of  "The  Rainy 
Day"  has  long  been  favorably  known. 

Her  country  house  was  situated  on  Sawyer  Hill, 
in  Berlin,  near  Fitchburg,  Mass.  She  possessed 
and  cultivated  a  large  farm,  adjacent  to  that  resi- 
dence, and  so  practical  was  her  interest  in  agricul- 
ture that,  in  the  local  agricultural  fairs,  she  com- 
peted for  prizes,  exhibiting  both  vegetables  and 
cattle.  Her  dwelHng  was  burnt  down,  in  1881, 
and  a  large  mansion  now  occupies  the  site  where 
once  it  stood.  She  had  several  resident  pupils, 
while  she  lived  in  Berlin,  among  them  being  ]Miss 
Emma  V.  Thursby,  Miss  Lazar  (now  the  wife  of 
the  much  esteemed  Judge,  Stephen  D.  Stephens,  of 
New  Brighton,  Staten  Island),  Isabel  Fassett,  Miss 
St.  Clair,  Fanny  Kellogg,  and  Miss  Van  Buren. 
There  is  a  tradition  in  the  village  of  Berlin,  that, 
sometimes,  when  it  pleased  some  of  those  pupils  to 
try  their  voices,  near  to  a  large  boulder  in  the 
woods  of  their  teacher's  estate,  the  sound  of  their 
singing  could  be  heard  in  the  village,  a  mile  distant. 

Erminia  Rudersdorff  was  a  woman  of  sturdy  indi- 
viduality, exceptional  talents,  and  strong  and  inter- 


352  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

esting  character.  Persons  who  often  heard  her  sing- 
ing testify  that  she  possessed  a  superb  voice,  that 
her  method  was  wonderfully  fine,  and  that,  on  all 
professional  occasions,  she  dominated  by  innate 
authority.  Personally  she  was  erratic  and  uncon- 
ventional, to  the  last  degree,  sometimes  manifesting 
a  harsh,  imperious  temper,  and  habitually  disre- 
garding the  social  views  and  customs  of  the  com- 
munity in  which  she  dwelt.  She  was,  for  example, 
fond  of  smoking,  and  she  would  smoke  cigars 
when  driving  in  the  Berlin  roads.  Her  con- 
duct towards  her  pupils  was  sometimes  rude  and 
severe,  but  also  it  was  sometimes  affectionate  and 
endearing.  In  some  moods  she  was  dehghtful. 
She  had  known  much  trouble  and  sorrow.  She  was 
intemperate,  and  she  did  not  grow  old  gracefully; 
but  she  had  a  kind  heart,  and  it  is  probable  that 
she  was  not  less  estimable  for  being  unpopular. 
Several  of  her  pupils  resident  at  Berlin  were 
poor,  but  they  were  gratuitously  entertained  and 
taught  by  her,  because  she  perceived  their  musi- 
cal talent  and  wished  that  it  should  be  developed 
and  not  wasted.  Correct  appreciation  of  the 
character  of  the  mother  is  perhaps,  helpful 
toward  an  understanding  of  the  character  of  the 
son. 

Mme.  Rudersdorff  died,  at  the  Hotel  La  Grange, 


HIS    MOTHER'S    GRAVE  353 

in  Boston,  on  February  22,  1882,  and  was  buried 
at  Mount  Auburn,  where  her  grave,  near  Wistaria 
Path,  is  marked  by  a  boulder  of  rough  granite, 
to  which  is  affixed  a  bronze  plate,  bearing  this 
inscription : 

ERMINIA  RUDERSDORF 
MANSFIELD 

The  remains  of  an  inscription  that  formerly  was 
on  the  boulder,  and  that  has  been  partly  obliterated, 
are  discernible.  A  person  who  remembers  having 
seen  the  stone  soon  after  it  was  placed  in  position 
says  that  it  then  bore  only  the  word: 

RUDERSDORFF 

There  is  no  room  in  the  lot  for  other  graves,  and  in 
summer  the  boulder  is  completely  covered  with  ivy. 
Grove's  "Dictionary  of  Music  and  Musicians" 
records  that  Erminia  Rudersdorff  was  married,  in 
1844,  at  Frankfort,  to  Dr.  KUchenmeister,  a  Pro- 
fessor of  Mathematics.  The  Professor  disappears 
from  the  record.  Her  marriage  to  Maurice  Mans- 
field occurred  later,  in  Berlin.  The  Dictionary  fur- 
ther states  that  she  wrote  the  libretto  for  Randeg- 
ger's  cantata  in  "Fridohn,"  based  on  Schiller's 
"Gang  nach  dem  Eisenhammer,"  sung  at  a  festival 
in  Birmingham,  England,  in  1873. 


354  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

HIS    MOTHER'S    WILL. 

The  Will  of  Mansfield's  mother  is  a  singularly 
characteristic  document,  as  clearly  indicative  of 
her  resolute  mind  as  it  is  of  her  affectionate  heart. 
She  wrote  it  on  October  15,  1881,  at  which  time  her 
house  at  Berlin  had  not  been  burnt,  and  when,  accord- 
ingly, her  estate  was  considerable,  in  both  extent  and 
value,  and  she  bequeathed  "everything  to  my  dear 
son  Richard  Mansfield,"  under  a  few  "exceptions 
and  conditions."  Richard  was  then  living  at  Num- 
ber 57  Berners  Street,  Oxford  Street,  London.  A 
few  indicative  passages  from  this  interesting  relic, 
obviously  the  composition  of  the  testator,  are 
appended. 

MY  LAST  WILL  AND  TESTAMENT. 

Boston,  Mass., 
October  15th.,  1881. 

At  present — to-day — my  property  consists  in  my  estate 
Lakeside,  Berlin,  Mass.  $1,500  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Henley  Luce  of  Messrs.  Kidder  and  Peabody,  Bankers,  of 
this  town.  About  $500  in  the  international  Trust  Com- 
pany. A  small  balance  in  the  1st.  National  Bank,  of 
Clinton,  Mass.  My  furniture.  Piano,  Pictures,  rugs, 
bric-a-brac,  Plate,  china,  linen,  wardrobe,  Jewellery  and 
silver.    .    .    . 

I  give  my   dear   daughter  Greta,   wife   of   Gaston   Bat- 


BEQUESTS  355 

tanchon  of  the  Chateau  De  La  Ragnc,  Aignan,  Gess, 
France,  the  enamelled  and  jewelled  ornaments  pendant 
and  earrings,  from  the  empress  Eugenie,  the  gold  bracelet 
with  three  Diamonds  and  "Hermine  Mansfeld"  engraved 
inside  and  the  Tietjcns  ring,  1  Torquoise,  2  medium  and 
6  small  Diamonds,  also  my  enamelled  watch,  chain  and 
breloques  thereon. 

I  give  my  son,  Henry  Mansfield,  of  this  city,  my  ring 
with  three  turquoises,  and  all  the  furniture  and  bric-a- 
brac  and  rugs  at  present  in  his  room  in  Tremont  Street. 
This  is  to  be  given  him  in  full  discharge  of  any  claim 
he  may  want  to  make  upon  my  property.    .    .    . 

I  leave  to  my  sister,  Matsilde  Rudersdorff  of  Jena,  in 
Germany,  all  my  dresses,  shawls,  mantles,  lace,  body  linen 
— everything  in  my  wardrobe,  with  exceptions  as  below. 
Also  my  ring  with  3  diamonds  and  the  one  with  4 
turquoises.    .    .    . 

To  my  dear  pupil,  Speranza,  Emma  Thursby,  the  gold 
link  roman  bracelet  with  "Vita  tibi." 

To  my  good  pupil  Fannie  Kellogg,  a  black  Cashemire 
India  bournous,  embroidered  with  white  silk,  also  a  black 
net  skirt,  embroidered  with  white  silk,  also  a  new  pair 
of  old  gold  silk  stockings  and  a  wide  Limerick  lace 
flounce,   which   she   knows.    .    .    . 

...  If  the  jewellery  does  not  bring  good  prizes,  it 
is  not  to  be  sold,  but  kept  for  Richie's  Avife,  if  he  marries 
one  his  friends  approve  of. 

Beyond  the  property  above  stated,  I  have  a  valuable  4 
year  colt,  Coquette,  with  my  good  friend  Mr.  Arthur 
Hastings,  at  South  Berlin,  Mass.,  and  a  mare,  Kittie 
Allen,  and  a  Phaeton,  Harness  etc.,  at  Nim's  Stables — 
These  are  to  be  sold.  Coquette  ought  to  bring  a  high 
figure.    .    .    . 


356  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

After  paying  my  just  debts,  all  money  is  to  be  invested 
to  best  advantage  and  paid  to  my  dear  boy,  Richie, 
Richard  Mansfield,  when  he  marries,  provided  he  does  not 
marry  under  five  years  from  this  year  1881,  and  the 
month  of  December.    .    .    . 

I  give  Arthur  Hastings  of  South  Berlin,  Mass.,  one  of 
the  charcoal  drawings  by  my  son,  Richard  Mansfield. 

I  give  to  Captain  Silas  Sawyer  of  Berlin,  Mass.,  also  one 
of  the  above  charcoal  drawings,  as  thanks  for  building  a 
stone  hut  over  my  coffin  at  Lakeside,  which  I  know  he  will 
do.    .    .    . 

Miss  Ada  St.  Clair,  at  present  957  Hancock  Street, 
owes  me  $42  which   are  to  be  collected.    .    .    . 

October  18th,  1881. 

Erminia  Mansfield  Rudersdorff. 

Witness : 

Julia  R.  Hotchkiss. 
L.  Louise  Brigham. 

The  will  was  re-executed  February  25,  1882,  hav- 
ing been  interlined,  in  the  presence  of  I.  T.  Talbot, 
M.  E.  Emery,  and  Ellen  Jones. 


BEATRICE  CAMERON— MRS.  MANSFIELD. 

Susan  Hegeman,  daughter  of  William  H.  Hege- 
man  and  Esther  Byram  Hegeman,  known  on  the 
stage  as  Beatrice  Cameron,  was  born  at  Tro}% 
N.  Y.,  in  1868.  She  began  her  career  as  an  ama- 
teur, appearing  with  Mrs.  Cora  Urquhart  Potter, 
in  "A  Midnight  Marriage."  Later  she  gained 
some  experience,  acting  in  the  company  of  Robert 
Mantell,  in  the  play  of  "Called  Back,"  and  she  also 
appeared  in  "Arrah-na-Pogue,"  and  in  one  or  two 
other  plays.  She  joined  Richard  Mansfield's  com- 
pany in  1886,  making  her  first  appearance  with  him, 
at  the  Madison  Square  Theatre,  New  York,  as  Mrs. 
Florence  Lowell,  in  "Prince  Karl,"  on  JNIay  17  that 
year,  and  she  continued  to  act,  as  leading  woman  in 
his  company,  until  February  12,  1898,  at  the  Grand 
Opera  House,  Chicago,  when  she  retired  from  the 
stage.  She  was  the  first  representative  of  the  chief 
female  characters  in  all  the  plays  produced  by  him, 
during  the  time  indicated,  except  that  of  Agnes 
Carew,  in  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  ISIr.  Hyde,"  that  part 
ha\ang  been  first  acted  by  INIiss  Isabella  Evesson, 
and  that  of  Mariana  Vincent,  in  "Beau  Brummell," 
that  part  having  been  first  acted  by  Miss  Agnes 

357 


358  LIFE    OF    MANSFIELD 

Miller.  Since  her  formal  retirement  she  has 
appeared  on  the  stage  only  once,  January  8,  1900, 
at  the  Garden  Theatre,  New  York,  on  which  occa- 
sion she  acted  Raina,  in  "Arms  and  the  Man,"  a 
play  which  Mansfield  then  presented  for  the  last  time. 
Her  repertory  comprised : 

Mrs.  Florence  Lowell "Prince  Karl" 

Agnes  Carew "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde" 

Alice  Golden "Monsieur" 

Lesbia "Lesbia" 

Lady  Anne "Richard   III." 

Letty  Lightfoot "Master  and  Man" 

Nora "A  Doll's  House" 

Mariana  Vincent "Beau  Brummell" 

Lucia "Don  Juan" 

Acte "Nero" 

Tessy  Tagrag "Ten  Thousand  a  Year" 

Hester  Prynne "The  Scarlet  Letter" 

Portia "The  Merchant  of  Venice" 

Raina "Arms  and  the  Man" 

Queen  Louisa  of  Prussia "Napoleon  Bonaparte" 

Clara  Desmond "The   King  of   Peru" 

Lady  Thyrza "Castle  Sombras" 

Judith  Anderson "The   Devil's   Disciple" 

As  an  actress  Beatrice  Cameron  was  exceedingly 
winning  in  the  character  of  Mrs.  Lowell,  presenting 
an  image  of  girlish  happiness,  and  she  was  variously 
able  and  brilliant  as  Lucia,  Hester  Prynne,  Nora, 
and  Raina, — the  latter  being,  perhaps,  her  best  per- 
formance, considered  as  a  work  of  art,  and  being, 


Phototjravh  b\i  Mmrvnu.  Xnr   Ynih- 

MRS.  MANSFIELD  AND  GEORGE  GIBBS  MANSFIELD 


ACTRESS    AND    WOMAN  359 

also,  one  of  the  best  examples  of  the  satire  of 
romance  that  have  been  seen.  She  seemed  inclined 
to  cultivate  a  taste  for  theatrical  parts  of  a  bizarre 
character,  but  her  natural  aptitude  was  for  parts 
representative  either  of  frolic,  pensive  sweetness, 
or  deep  womanly  feeling.  Her  Lucia  was  one  of 
the  decisive  artistic  successes  of  her  career.  The 
identification  with  the  assumed  state  of  a  boy,  inci- 
dental to  that  impersonation, — when  Lucia,  dressed 
as  a  page,  follows  Don  Juan  into  danger, — was 
complete;  the  bearing  was  free,  and  even  martial; 
the  feeling  was  deep  and  true;  and  the  utterance  of 
the  feeling  was  fluent,  musical,  and  tender.  As 
Tessy,  in  "Ten  Thousand  a  Year,"  she  gave  a 
performance  remarkable  for  bright  intelligence, 
natural,  sustained  vivacity,  and  winning  ardor.  As 
a  woman  Mrs.  Mansfield  is  highly  esteemed  for  her 
patience,  placid  resolution,  gentleness,  loyalty,  and 
executive  faculty.  She  understood  and  deeply  appre- 
ciated her  husband,  and  her  sound  business  judgment 
was  a  sagacious  guide  to  him.  The  desire  of  most 
persons,  whatever  their  pursuit,  is  for  the  gratifi- 
cation of  their  wishes,  irrespective  of  others.  The 
principal  aims  of  Beatrice  Mansfield  were  to  protect 
her  husband's  interest,  cheer  his  hfe,  and  promote 
his  happiness.  She  is  remarkable,  among  women 
of  the  stage,  for  the  cheerful  alacrity  with  which. 


360  LIFE    OF   MANSFIELD 

for  his  sake,  she  set  aside  her  professional  ambition. 
There  are  not  many  actors  who  realize  that  success 
in  life  is  possible  away  from  the  stage. 

Mere  encomium  is  not  intended,  but  a  true 
picture  of  character  and  right  appreciation  of  it. 
At  a  time  when  Mrs.  Mansfield  was  enduring 
bereavement,  and  when  she  knew  of  the  fatal  ill- 
ness of  a  member  of  my  family,  she  wrote  to  me, 
in  a  sweet  and  gentle  spirit,  and  perhaps  her 
gracious  letter,  which  discloses,  in  few  words,  so 
much  of  herself  and  of  the  husband  whom  she  so 
much  loved,  will  not  be  deemed  amiss,  in  this  por- 
trayal  of  their  lives: 

My  Dear  Mr.  Winter: — 

.  .  .  It  is  hard  to  see  our  dear  ones  fade  away.  It  may 
be  well  for  them,  but  it  is  very  hard  for  us.  ...  I  wish,  oh, 
so  much — that  we  lived  "within  a  day's  journey"  of  each 
other.  Dick  seems  to  realize,  more  and  more,  as  years  pass  on, 
how  much  we  need  the  friends  we  love,  and  who  are  interested 
in  the  things  we  care  for.  He  is  so  restless  and  depressed — and 
I  can  see  it  is  because  he  has  no  one  to  whom  he  can  talk  of  the 
things  which  are  his  life.  There  is  no  artistic  atmosphere;  it 
is  all  sordid,  hard,  and  commonplace. 

He  misses  you — the  congenial  interchange  of  ideas,  the  new 
thoughts  that  come  of  meeting  another  thought  half  way.  I 
express  myself  badly — but  what  I  want  to  try  and  tell  you — 
have  you  not  often  felt,  that  this  city  lacked  that  place  of 
meeting  for  men  of  letters?  Or  is  it  the  element  that  is  lack- 
ing? But  what  I  am  really  trying  to  say  is  this — if  we  could 
only   see   you   sometimes !    .     .     .    Will   you   try    and   come   up 


MKS.  MANSFIELD  AND  HKH  SOX   I\   1!)08 


COMRADES  361 

some  day?  It  would  do  Dick  more  good  than  I  can  say. 
There  seems  to  be  no  one  to  whom  he  can  talk  of  the  things 
that  are  dear  to  him. 

Always  your  sincere  friend, 

Beatrice   Mansfield. 

The  story  of  the  Life  of  Richard  Mansfield 
would  be  sadly  incomplete  without  some  tribute  to 
one  who  was  his  best  friend,  to  whom,  in  all  his 
troubles,  disappointments,  and  sufferings,  he  turned 
for  comfort  and  cheer,  and  never  turned  in  vain. 


END    OF    VOLUME    I. 


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